


And The Yellow Sunflower By The Brook

by listlessness



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: And a lot of emotions, Barebacking, Canonical Character Death, Explicit Sexual Content, Floriography, Florist AU, Fluff, M/M, Not Incest, Oral Sex, Slight Foot Fetish, Slow Burn, a real heckin slow burn, but like later in the fic, delores-with-an-e, diego may or may not have stabbed someone, so many goddamn sunflowers, this is just really soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-23 23:58:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 66,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18559759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/listlessness/pseuds/listlessness
Summary: In a town that isn't quite small, but isn't a sprawling metropolis either, stands a flower shop owned by a quiet boxer. And damn, does he have a problem with sunflowers.ORIn a town that is a lot smaller than what he is used to, a young man figures out how to paint the rain. And all he really wants is a cigarette.ORIn a town that is way too small, a young boy finds himself with two fathers. And dammit, he misses his girlfriend.





	1. [packing slip i]

**Author's Note:**

> Hi. If you have read any of my really long fics, you'll know I write a lot of angst.
> 
>  
> 
> _This is not angst._
> 
>  
> 
> This is the closest I get to fluff. Sickening, saccharine fluff. I don't read fluff, and I haven't read a coffee AU, so I have no idea how this actually matches up, but gosh darn it, I tried.
> 
> Anyway, I was so violently offended by [this photoshoot](https://www.thewrap.com/umbrella-academy-david-castaneda-pictures-studiowrap-portraits-photos/) David Castañeda did that I had to make it known, and this is my vengeance. 
> 
> Thank you to [Nat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nat_cat/pseuds/nat_cat) for [this](https://i.imgur.com/oPJ0pOO.jpg) artistic rendition of my experience writing this:
> 
> The explicit rating is for a couple of chapters at the end. The rest of the fic is really only PG.
> 
> I want to send a huge heaping of praise to my friendos over at the [TUA](https://discord.gg/7wStss3) Discord server for putting up with my dumb florist-au writing ass.
> 
> 🌻🌻🌻 Mwah, enjoy your day 🌻🌻🌻

Invoice Number: 2798GA-3 

Date: September 3rd 2019 

*

_Graceful Arrangements_

c/o 

Diego Hargreeves 

*

Thank you for your purchase! 

Please check that all items listed below have been received and agree with your order. Please report any discrepancies noted immediately to our customer service centre. 

There are no exchanges for insect damage, nor any exchanges for frost between December 1st and March 1st. 

*

**ITEMS SHIPPED**

_Samourai rose_

_-red_

_-ocean song_

[XXX] 

_D. caryophyllus_

_\- pink_

_-white_

[XXX] 

_Delphinium elatum_

_-blue lace_

[XXX] 

*

Thank you for your continued support! 


	2. daffodil

The phone chimed as it rang out. It had skipped the option to leave a voice mail. Typical. Diego wasn't sure why he had expected any different- it had done that everyday that week. If he didn't know any better, he'd think he was being avoided. He'd have definitely thought that if it weren't for the sight in front of him.

Another case dropped down in front of him, a waft of dry ice coming from the refrigerated truck. Holding the packing slip loosely in one hand, Diego looked over to where the driver was pulling another cool case off the pallet. Shaking his head, he held up a hand to stop him, side-stepping around the case. His phone was dropped into the front pocket of his embroidered apron. 

'Hey- hey, that's- _stop_ \- listen, asshole, I said-' 

The courier barely paused. The last case (six, up from two at the start of the week) was added to the pile. The cart was jerked away and he shrugged, helpless at Diego's confusion. Out of his pocket, he pulled out the barcode scanner and began to sign in all the cases. With a small whimper, Diego looked at each case, and then over his shoulder at the boxes already piled high in the cool room. 

'I have nowhere to put these,' he said weakly, accepting the scanner when it was handed to him to sign. 'They're going to rot.' 

'I only deliver the packages, man,' the courier said to him. His name badge proclaimed happily, _Hi, My name is HazEl_. 'You're gonna need to take it up with the warehouse.' 

'They're not answering.' 

'Main office, then.' 

With a heavy sigh, Diego pressed a hand to his face. He'd already been on the phone to the warehouse every afternoon that week, and nobody had even answered. This marked the fifth delivery of sunflowers, and the twenty-fourth case overall. It was mid-fall. Nobody bought sunflowers in mid-fall. 

The doors to the truck were slammed shut, the latch sliding into place and subsequently locked. 

'I don't understand,' he said as he followed Hazel-cum-HazEl back to his truck. 'I haven't ordered any of these. Not the sunflowers, anyway.' 

With a shrug, Hazel heaved himself into the cab of the truck. His partner was already in the passenger seat, her finger running down a list that Diego couldn't see. 

'We only get the locations, pal. You need to call home base.' 

Sighing heavily, Diego crossed his arms over his chest, the packing slip still clutched in one hand, and took two steps back. Hazel waved a pair of fingers before driving off, leaving Diego with more stock than he could possibly move that week. 

Taking another two steps back, Diego ran his hand over his mouth. A case kicked at his heels. Sitting himself down, he rested his elbows heavily on his knees. Becoming a florist hadn't exactly been his ambition when he was boy, but as he'd grown older he'd found it more and more appealing, particularly when adulthood had swung in and made him realise he needed to change the direction his life was heading in. From making tasteful arrangements for his mother after his father died, to helping several friends at parties and weddings, Diego had found himself with both a knack and a passion for flower arrangements. 

_Graceful Arrangements_ was still very much a labour of love. He'd lucked out in finding a corner site with an apartment that he could live in on the floor above. The living area was small, the mortgage repayments a little higher than what he'd ideally pay, but the location was fantastic. The business subsided frequently on impulse purchases thanks to the part of town in they were in; husbands buying a bouquet for the wives, daughters buying sweet arrangements for their mothers. Much of his business was done via word of mouth, and they were beginning to pick up on orders for weddings and funerals. A cafe strip ran towards the east, near the local train station. To the west were the suburbs. He'd even been able to take on another staff member part time (on-again/off-again ex-girlfriend-turned-colleague, Eudora), though he still manned the store predominately on his own. 

There were footsteps behind him. Diego didn't turn; he knew who it was. 

' _More_? Are you joking?' 

He could hear the bafflement in Eudora's voice. As he studied the packing slip, he heard the creak of one of the refrigerated crates. They were running out of place to store them all. There were giant bouquets already in the store, half price. The cool room was filling up. 

As far as he could tell, all these sunflowers had already been purchased by another person. He couldn't understand why they would be receiving what was essentially free stock. There was no overdue amount on any of the packing slips. Hell, they weren't listed on the packing slips at all. Diego was just the unlucky recipient. 

'Where are we going to put them all?' 

The cool room was already close to bursting. They didn't have any major bookings that weekend, which Diego was stuck between being grateful and resentful for. He had half a mind to actually set up a roadside stand somewhere on the Interstate and hock them all for five bucks a bunch. 

'There's space. For now,' he added a little hesitantly as he folded the packing slip in half and stood. 'I can't get through to the warehouse.' 

'Are there going to be more? We've been getting them every couple of days for two weeks now.' 

'I know,' he said, stepping over a crate to help Eudora with hefting one inside. 'I can smell them every night. Any chance you want to take some home with you?' 

There wasn't any sign of stopping, either. The couriers only cared about dropping them off, being paid on a delivery basis as all couriers were. It didn't matter to them if Diego sold out or if they rotted on the pavement. Diego, predominately, was worried about needing to pay for them all; he couldn't return any of them, fresh or not. He'd rather build up some kind of kitty in case he was lumped with an exorbitant fee. 

Somewhere from the front, he could hear Eudora's phone start to ring. Diego made a hurrying motion with his hand and Eudora excused herself to answer it. Huffing, Diego simply heaved a crate up and went about putting them away, checking the rest of the boxes to ensure his order had otherwise arrived quickly. He could figure out how to move the sunflowers, but he couldn't run on a store on them only. 

By the time the last box was slid into place, there was a thin walkway in the centre of the cool room. It was a tight fit, and Diego had to shuffle sideways to make his way out. He was already planning the lecture that would go unsaid to the receptionist at the warehouse about not returning his numerous calls. 

Making his way to the store front, muttering to himself about what he'd love to say with a few choice words if he ever managed to get put through to the main office, he nearly walked right into Eudora. She pivoted on the ball of her foot, waited for him to look up, and then placed the daily planner in his hands, covering the packing slip he had pulled back out to study. Appointments were written down, deliveries and planned phone calls. He studied it and looked back up at her, a little expectantly. 

'What?' 

He knew what was coming. She had been laying the seeds for a few weeks now, a breadcrumb trail leading to one result. 

Both Eudora and Diego had had the same dream when they'd been dating. They both wanted to join the police force, to help make something better out of their home town. While Diego's dream had spluttered and fallen apart much around the time of their breakup (and he'd since built a new one in the form of his store, which he was very proud of, _thank you very much_ ), Eudora had gone from strength to strength. 

Diego wasn't jealous. Much. 

He'd known he'd never be accepted into the police force. It still left a bitter taste in his mouth, though. 

'I've got my assessment date,' she said, flicking through the pages to a date in a hair over a month's time. 

'That's fantastic,' he said, knowing she needed to hear it. 'I'm- that's wonderful. You're going to do well, you're going to be accepted.' 

Diego grew quiet as his eyes dropped to the page in question. His eyes scanned the appointment dates leading up to it, the bookings that had been made. Christmas would lead into New Years, which would lead into Valentine's Day and Easter. He knew what she was saying without her needing to utter the words. 

Swallowing hard, he ran his thumb over the scar that ran down his eyebrow. A nervous gesture, a habit that he knew Eudora was reading into. 

The store had been run well with just the two of them for the years it had been opened. But Eudora was moving on, an itch in her skin to actually make something more of herself. She needed it. Diego had his outlet in boxing, but he also loved the stability the store provided. There was a rhythm in it that grounded and settled him. He'd never felt the pang for more than other people seemed to have. Sure, sometimes there was an itch for spontaneity, a craving for excitement, but it would get smothered by commitments to the store. 

'If you need time off to study or train, take it,' he said, closing the appointment book and setting it down on the counter. 'Mom's already knitting you a scarf in the uniform colours.' 

Although Eudora rolled her eyes at that, Diego could still her smile teasing as her lips. His eyes dropped back to the appointment book. The idea of hiring a new person to assist on the days when Eudora was out (and, regretfully, when she finally left) was pushed into the back of his mind. They had danced around it before, but Diego had tried to deflect the topic as much as he could. He didn't want to think about it too much. Collecting the packing slip, he went to busy himself by recording the stock that had arrived- along with the multitude of sunflowers.


	3. anemone

There was a person who emailed in once a week to make an appointment. They specified the same time each week and never signed their name, so Eudora had started to affectionately refer to them as Mister Five PM. Diego wouldn't have taken any notice of it, except for the fact that Mister Five PM never actually showed up. It had been going on for close to four weeks, and each time the appointment came and went, an email would fall into their inbox, full of apologies and sincerities and never any excuses or reasons. Diego wasn't sure if this last fact filled him with gratitude or frustration. 

'Start saying no,' Diego would say after the latest skipped appointment, as he looked through the calendarwith a half-dozen dates gone by, all with no-shows. 'Or ask for a deposit.' 

'We don't take a deposit for a free consultation,' Eudora said, her chin resting in her hand as she scrolled through the stockists website for ribbons and trims. 

'We do now. After the third no-show, ask for a fifty-dollar refundable deposit.' 

'I'll bet you five dollars he turns up this week,' Eudora drawled. 

He tried to ignore the roll of her eyes as she double-clicked several meters of gold ribbon. He knew she wouldn't ask. The store technically didn't close until six, and if they had anyone turn up at five PM in this part of town, it was usually a husband or boyfriend having been caught in a compromising position. Diego rarely worked the storefront at that time, and instead busied himself checking stock (sunflowers upon sunflowers as it had recently been), preparing for the following day, and sending off the last of his emails from his tiny office at the back. If Eudora wanted to wait for an inevitable patron that was clearly just wasting their time, that was on her. 

Until it wasn't. A minor medical emergency involving her mother had Eudora leaving early Thursday afternoon, and Diego was on his own. Another crate of sunflowers had arrived that morning, along with his expected order of ferns, oak leaves, and the trims that Eudora had purchased. Diego hadn't even bothered putting the sunflowers in the cool room. He'd ripped the lid off the crate, wrapped it in linen and stuffed it with burlap and set it outside the front door with a sign that announced they were half price. It wasn't the most superb selling strategy, but his apartment above the store was beginning to reek of sunflowers. 

There was a brief busy period, which petered out just as quickly. Sunflowers exchanged hands, as well as bouquets of daffodils, pots of pansies and, peculiarly, a half dozen cacti. All too soon, though, the store grew quiet except for the easy listening station that resonated better with customers than Diego. He fell back behind the counter and studied the computer. Five thirty-four PM. Eudora's client was a no-show again. Easiest five dollars ever. 

Pulling up the main office for the warehouse, Diego punched in the phone number again and listened to it ring. Eyeballing the computer monitor, he began to scroll over various news articles, already settling in for a quiet evening. A text was sent to his mother, another to Eudora, passing on his well wishes. He dialled the warehouse twice more, watching as people walked by the store through the window as the sky turned from blue to a hazy purple-grey. 

The phone chimed out. It wasn't even ringing out any more. A three-bell tune sounded, a signal the phone line was engaged. Diego groaned and rolled his eyes, sinking back into his seat. A pain had begun to shoot up his back, his neck tight from where he'd been holding it as he cradled the phone between ear and shoulder. At this rate, he was going to wind up driving the five hour one-way journey to the head office. 

Dropping the phone back in the cradle, he let his head fall into his hands. He ought to go to the gym. Get a few hours in. A few solid punches to a bag, maybe a sparring match with Luther. The big lug was all heft and muscle, a whole weight class above him, while Diego held the dexterity and speed. Maybe he'd even let Luther pin him; at least he was real and solid, not like the assholes at the warehouse. 

Just as he was about to switch the computer off and head upstairs to grab his gear, the chimes at the front door rang out. With a murmur of annoyance, despite his attempts to stifle it, he lifted his head. Keeping his eyes down as he dragged the mouse away from the Shut Down tab, Diego called out into the sunset-lit store. 

'We're closed,' he drawled. 

'I have an appointment. And your sign says you're open until six.' 

The voice came from somewhere at the front end of the store. It was disembodied; there didn't seem to be anyone there. His fingers hovered over the buttons on the mouse but he stopped short of clicking anything. Glancing down at the appointment book he'd left opened, he skimmed his eyes down the page, half-hoping there was another appointment he had missed. 

_5:00PM – Appt. Frequent no show._

Nothing was underneath it. Raising a brow, Diego sat back. He really didn't want to owe Eudora the five bucks. Looking back up around the store, he saw a shadow pass along one of the walls. Sliding off his stool, Diego padded around the counter and tried to peer past the bundles of sunflowers that crowded the shelves. 

'We thought you were never going to come.' 

There in the corner was the repeat offender. From the way Eudora had spoken about him, Diego had been expecting someone... not like this. Older, perhaps. Diego wasn't certain. What he wasn't expecting was a short, young boy adorned in the prep school uniform of the high school up the road. He spun about on the ball of his shoe, a little startled by Diego's sudden appearance. 

'I didn't mean to startle you,' he immediately said as the boy's pale eyes darted to the door. 'You're the five o'clock?' 

'Uh. Yeah,' the boy said, his eyes shifting to the front door again. 'I thought I'd been talking to a woman.' 

Diego followed his gaze and gestured towards the door. 

'Eudora had to leave early today. I'm Diego. This is my store,' he said, his hand still stretched out to the door. 'If you'd rather speak to Eudora, you can come back tomorrow.' 

The boy paused. There was something twitchy about him. It wasn't the same edginess Diego had come to expect from other boys who attended the high school with that uniform; the kinds of kids who would pocket curling ribbon and rose mallow for the thrill of it. 

'No, I- it's not that,' he said, pushing past Diego to explore the store further. 'Please pass my apologies onto her. I... have had commitments.' 

The choice of phrasing had Diego reeling a little. Leaning back on his heels, he shook his head as the boy began to poke over the different floral arrangements (and, disappointingly, passed by all the sunflowers). His use of language gave him the impression of a child trying to sound like an adult. 

'I'll do just that,' he said slowly, trailing behind. 'Is there something- ' 

'I want to get my girlfriend something nice,' the boy said sharply, whipping around as though he were sizing Diego up. 

Stopping short, Diego felt himself compelled to take a small step back. The boy jerked his chin up at him, the corners of his mouth pinched. If this were a boxing ring, he'd be expecting the boy to take a few mistimed swings, the kind that would injure them both. 

'Okay,' Diego nodded. 'We have some pre-arranged bouquets on offer. What sort of- ' 

'Nothing pre-arranged. I want it unique. Just for her. Something hardy. It needs to be delivered to her,' the boy went on. 'She lives in Canada.' 

'Ca- ' Diego stopped. 'Your girlfriend who lives in Canada.' 

This felt like the start of a joke. 

His eyes narrowed as he took in the kid. His small hands had bundled into fists, the strangely pale eyes narrowed as his cheeks puffed out a little. Diego knew that look well; he was edging for a fight, as though Diego would dare doubt his story or insinuate he wasn't telling the truth. 

'Her name is Delores,' the boy went on. 'It's _not funny_.' 

'I'm not laughing,' Diego reassured him, as he tried desperately to swallow the compulsion to giggle. 

'I want- oh, _fuck_ \- ' 

Before Diego had a moment to follow what was happening, the kid had turned and run away. Quicker than he could have expected, Diego watched as the boy's scrawny legs propelled him towards the front counter. He dropped to his knees and skidded behind it, scurrying away just as the front door opened and the chimes rung out for a second time that evening. 

Despite being a little concerned about what the boy was doing behind his counter, Diego found himself moving towards the front door. Shoulders squared, back straight and chin lifted, Diego set his jaw and went to find what had startled the kid so much. 

'May I help you?' 

A gangly man was standing in the doorway. Long limbs, a shock of messy, dark hair, and a coat that looked like it belonged equally on a catwalk and in a gutter turned to face him. Bracing himself, Diego readied himself to toss the man out. 

Only he was met with a bright smile and a pair of wide, green eyes that fell upon Diego's own. 

'Hi. I'm looking for a young boy,' the man side, his voice far softer and gentler than Diego expected. 'He's about a yea-high, has a real Hermione Granger attitude about him. Complete prick, but his mother, bless her socks, will miss him terribly if he has run- ' 

'Who- ' Diego started, trying to get a word in edgewise. 

The man took several more wavering steps in, the door tinkling shut behind him. He picked up a sunflower and twirled it around, before putting back in the crate. 

'My dear, foolish son, he's always running into places he oughtn't.' 

'You're not my dad!' 

The cracking, pubescent voice of the boy sounded through the store. Diego, thoroughly befuddled and ready to escort both fake-father and false-son out of his store, scratched the back of his head. 

'You're not even my step-father!' the boy continued, stomping over. 

'But I love you like one!' 

That elicited a groan of frustration from the boy. He pressed his hands to his hips and scowled up at the scruffy man. He turned to Diego, petulant as most boys his age tended to be. 

'He's just a glorified _dog-walker_.' 

The man clicked his tongue and waggled a finger. 

'I've never walked a dog in my life and I shan't start now. But your mother does want you home with Pogo and she'll have my hide if you're not there in a jiff. Scoot along.' 

'I have an _appointment_.' 

Diego cleared his throat. 'I'd really like you both to leave,' he said softly, jerking his head towards the door. 

' _He's_ the reason I've been cancelling. He keeps making _fun_ of me!' 

The boy spun around to face him, his face a blend of shocked and crestfallen. With a screech that only adolescents seemed to be capable of making, he threw his arms up and stomped between Diego and his would-be babysitter. Storming towards the door, he flung it open with enough force to rattle the Venetians and headed through it. The man watched him, swayed side to side, and looked back at Diego. 

'Was this about his girlfriend?' he asked. There was a softness to his voice that hadn't originally been there. A sweetness. It threw Diego for a moment as he tried to steady himself mentally. 

'From Canada?' Diego asked. 

'Apparently she lives in Alberta.' 

'Seriously?' 

'He talks to her online on that... you know, the Facetimey thing. Snappers. Whatever.' 

The man nodded as he spoke, a feverish speed to his words. Rolling his eyes, he shrugged languidly, waved a hand, and then turned to follow the boy out. As the door clicked shut behind him, the chimes rattling lightly, Diego felt like he'd just been sucked in, and summarily thrown out of, a tornado. Taking a deep, somewhat strained breath, Diego shook his head and turned to begin the clean up. 

Perhaps he and Eudora could call this a tie.


	4. [packing slip ii]

Invoice Number: 2875GA-3 

Date: September 13th 2019 

*

_Graceful Arrangements_

c/o 

Diego Hargreeves 

*

Thank you for your purchase! 

Please check that all items listed below have been received and agree with your order. Please report any discrepancies noted immediately to our customer service centre. 

There are no exchanges for insect damage, nor any exchanges for frost between December 1st and March 1st. 

*

**ITEMS SHIPPED**

_L. henryi_

[XXX] 

_Delphinium elatum_

_-blue lace_

[XXX] 

_Erica_

_-darleyenesis_

_-carnea_ 


[XXX] 

3x – 'It's a boy!' bear, blue 

3x – 'It's a girl!' bear, pink 

6x – 'It's a baby!' bear, white 

1x – 'It's a lizard!' bear, dragon scale 

*

Thank you for your continued support! 


	5. zinnia

Eudora was sitting upon one of the wooden crates, her police exam prep book between her knees. A pen was being twiddled between her fingers as she picked under her nails with the cap, her eyes scanning down the page of the book. A part of Diego wanted to ask Eudora to help (she _was_ at work, after all), but it was coming more from a place of jealousy than an actual need for assistance. He didn't expect her to work in the store forever; she was just making it clear now. Besides, his own childhood dreams of joining the police force had been quashed by one too many old injuries from high school wrestling (or so he told people- the truth was kept closer to his chest). His mother took a small level of joyful relief in that, which Diego wasn't sure he appreciated. 

Checking off all the items he had ordered, (white lilies, blue delphiniums, fresh heather, the first poinsettias for the season, plus a collection of small, plush animals for maternity gift baskets) and making a note of the three crates of sunflowers he most certainly hadn't, Diego slid the pencil under the clasp of the clipboard. Eudora had moved onto picking at her teeth, a habit that had been cute before they started dating, had become mildly disgusting when they'd been in a relationship, and now filled Diego with a fond familiarity. 

'Hey.' 

She didn't look up. Lost in whatever police procedure she was studying, Eudora continued sucking at a tooth as she kept reading. Looking about, he grabbed one of the tiny, white bears, and gently lobbed it at Eudora's head. As Eudora startled, it bounced off, squeaking, and landed on her lap. She looked up at Diego, seemingly stuck between embarrassed and frustrated, and threw it back hard. Diego caught it easily and laughed as Eudora stood, the book raised above her head. 

'Hey, you can't be a cop if you don't keep an eye on your surroundings.' 

With a groan, Eudora made a move like she was ready to smack him over the head with her book. She rolled her eyes, lowered it back down onto her lap as she sat once more. 

'You ass.' 

Diego just snorted at the insult. Looking over the bear, making sure it was in one piece, he returned it back to its box. 

'Your friend came in,' he said cheerily. 

'Huh?' Eudora looked up at him, her brow furrowed. 

'Your friend. Mister Five PM.' 

Now he definitely had her attention. Her eyes widened and she made a noise of surprise. Tucking the pencil behind her ear, she shuffled forward and leant forward, her elbows on her knees. 

'Is he super old? He seemed old. And sweet.' 

Diego snorted. 'Opposite. He was a kid. Like... not even fifteen, I'd say. Fourteen, maybe. A little short for his age, either way.' 

Eudora leant back a little. Diego almost felt a little bad for ruining the surprise for her. She tilted her head to the side, her brows knit together, and turned the news over. He could imagine she was running all their emailed conversations through her mind, trying to resolve this new piece of information. 

'But... his wife's name is _Delores_ ,' she finally spluttered. 

'Girlfriend. I think. She could be made up,' Diego said, shrugging a shoulder. 'She's from Canada.' 

For some reason, he didn't quite want to mention the breezy man who had followed the boy in. He didn't think Eudora would find anything of interest in it, or even particularly remarkable. They worked in a crossroads section of town, where the stuffy suit-and-tie types met the artistic bohemians who smelt of patchouli and went barefoot. The man who came in to collect his... _not_ -son fit the latter. 

Diego had often envied those types. The carefree attitude they had, the complete lack of effort they put into existing. His mother had instilled in him a determined work effort that led to him striving to accomplish his goals, while his father had drilled into him a desire to actually prove himself and to be something more than what he'd been. Perhaps his father would have been disappointed to see him choose to work as a florist (if he'd lived to see it). This was what Diego had wanted, though. 

'How sweet,' Eudora cooed. 

'He's a spoilt rich boy from what I gathered,' Diego said around a laugh as he pushed himself up. 'Mind lending a hand?' 

The crates were picked up and wrangled into the cool room. They were tight on space once again, and Diego was already planning on how he could begin moving some of the stock. Dusting his hands on his apron as soon as they were done, he studied the busy cool room and shook his head. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Eudora mopping her brow with the back of her hand. 

'There's still nothing on the packing slip?' 

Although he already knew the answer, Diego still ran his eyes over it. There was nary a mention of sunflowers. 

'We're still not being charged,' Diego murmured. 

'Knock on wood.' 

'I just wish they were sending us something more in season. I'd love some discounted Juliet roses.' 

'Ugh, sounds divine,' Eudora drawled as she turned and went to clean up in the bathroom. 

She didn't have the same interest in floristry as Diego, but he wouldn't fault her for that. People thought it would be easy work, but it was messy, there was never enough stock (when they wanted it), and they worked closely with the two most emotional times of someones life: weddings and funerals. 

Folding the packing slip in half, he locked up the cool room and went to file the docket away with the rest that he'd been given. 

Try as he might, Diego still couldn't get through to the warehouse. The contact line for the main office was almost impossible to find. Eudora was the more internet-savvy of the two of them, and even she had difficulty prowling through different websites to find it. One number went nowhere, and a second routed back to the warehouse that alternated between ringing out and chiming back engaged. The idle, muttered comments Diego made about driving to the main office and giving him a piece of his mind were entirely unfounded, and Eudora knew as much, even though she encouraged him. 

The afternoon passed, sales were made (again, not as many of the sunflower variety as Diego had hoped), and Eudora went home. Diego finally settled in to answer the emails that had come in during the day, sitting unread in the inbox. A few bridal enquiries, a few more for funerals and wakes. A pet's birthday (an event that Diego had noticed were becoming slightly more frequent than he understood). He tapped out the replies, wondering not for the first time if he could take on a third person just to handle this part of his job, when the front door chimed. 

He glanced down and looked at the time. Six-oh-five PM. They were, by all intents and purposes, closed. But Diego wasn't going to shoo someone off it meant a potential sale. 

'Mister Diego?' 

Diego's eyes lingered on the time a beat longer, before he slowly lifted them to the store. At the very end of an aisle, peering over the edge, was none other than Mister Five PM. Leaning back a little on the stool he was sat upon, Diego cocked his head to the side and jerked his chin for the boy to come up. He wandered about slowly, his school uniform bafflingly too big and too small at the same time, the way Diego thought all private school uniforms seemed to be. The blazer he wore stretched out over his shoulders, while his spindly legs stuck out from the bottom of his knee-length shorts. 

'We're closed, kid.' 

'Yeah, well...' The kid shrugged. 'My mom's home this week and this is the earliest I can get out without her chewing my ear off and anyone else noticing I'm gone.' 

Diego's eyes narrowed a little at that. Something about the statement made him want to unpack it, to investigate it a little further. The boy took his time meandering up to the front counter, his hand drifting over the different displays. Sprays, sugars and fertilisers to help prolong the life of cut flowers, different wheels of ribbons in an array of colours. 

'How much is a bouquet of roses?' 

The boy turned and looked up Diego. He was a good ten inches shorter than Diego (eleven, if he counted the stool). But his gaze was steely, his jaw set tight. For a good moment, Diego had that same queer, unsettling feeling he sometimes had when he was facing down a particularly vicious, nipping chihuahua. Sure, he could take him in a fight- but, _God_ , at what cost? 

'That depends,' Diego said evenly, folding his hands on the counter. 'How many? What colour? Are you looking for any embellishments?' 

'Give me the price range.' 

'A single rose in a box will be setting you back about forty-five dollars,' Diego said coolly, sliding off the stool and finally rounding around the counter to lead the boy to the shelf in question. 'It's a statement gift. But if you go for two roses in a vase with green foliage, like this one, you'd be looking at fifty. There's a simplicity in the statement a rose gives.' 

The boy just nodded and continued to study Diego like he was investing in a new car. Aware that he wasn't about to be swayed into cheaper gift for his more than likely pretend girlfriend in Canada, Diego grabbed the album that was on display on the shelf and held it out for the boy to take. He flicked towards the back and pointed out the pictures of the more elaborate displays. Fifty to sixty roses, set in a deep fishbowl. It was a simple arrangement with no ribbons or foliage, but it was romantic. 

'This is closer to five hundred. Any extras, like chocolates or plush toys, are extra.' 

That finally caused something in the boy's expression to twitch. Holding the album in one hand, he began to flick through it. 

'She likes purple. Do you have any purple roses?' 

Clicking his tongue, Diego looked about. He was feeling an increasing urge to tell the kid he ought to be speaking to his mother, that he didn't feel comfortable having this conversation with him. He was used to teenage boys coming in, a wad of cash in hand that amounted to under thirty dollars. They'd buy bright, obnoxious bouquets for their girlfriends and mothers. There would be a nervous, frenetic energy to them, as though worried Diego would tease them for having the foresight to buy flowers. 

Not this kid, though. There was something studious about him. Severe. He had taken the album and had wandered to the desk in the corner where Diego would discuss bridal arrangements and corsage and boutonnieres for upcoming proms with patrons. Diego preferred to work at the counter, but clients preferred the intimacy of a smaller desk. The boy sat down, the album still opened, and turned to look at Diego expectantly. 

'How much is it for a custom arrangement?' 

Standing there, a little frozen, Diego hesitated. If he spoke immediately, he knew he'd be skipping over the words, struggling to get more out than a couple of a syllables. Taking a breath, he took a few steps over, turning it all over in his mind as he carefully eased around the table and sat down opposite the boy. As he sat, he could see the boy's feet skimming the floor, barely flat on the ground. 

'Again,' he started, picturing each word in his mind, 'that would depend on the... style. Flowers chosen. Size. If the flowers are in season.' 

Nodding, the boy rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Diego grit his teeth, trying to swallow what he wanted to say, but he found himself asking anyway. 

'If she lives in Canada, why don't you go with a local florist near her house? The delivery charge will be huge.' 

'I've seen your work,' came the quick reply. 'I like it. How much are orchids?' 

Right. 

Taking a deep breath, Diego reached back into one of the drawers of the desk. Pulling out one of his design pads, he flicked to a blank page and began to scrawl down what had already been stated. 

_Purple – roses pref._

_Orchids_

_Custom?_

_Cost??_

'How are you planning on paying for this?' he asked, hoping for a casual tone. 

'Cash.' 

Diego's eyes lifted. He eyeballed the logo of the private school uniform, the boyish haircut. 

'Do you have a job? We offer a payment plan, but only if you have a credit card.' 

There was another twitch in the boy's eye. His eyes darted away from Diego for a moment and he visibly took a breath. As the question was considered, he finally took on a more childlike appearance, the teenage anguish surfacing briefly. 

'I'm looking for one. Payment won't be a problem, I promise.' 

Scratching the side of his nose, Diego gave a small shrug. He could hear the honesty and earnestness in the boy's voice, and he didn't want to knock him down, but his bills weren't being paid on promises. 

'Why not go for something a little cheaper than a unique arrangement?' he tried to suggest gently. 'We have some beautiful sunflowers on sale right now. I'll even do it at a discount.' 

Sure, Diego was just trying to move stock, but he wanted to help the boy out. His offer was rewarded with a wrinkled nose, though, and a turned up face. Shaking his head, the boy huffed and smacked his hand on the table. Petulant and spoilt. _Wonderful_. 

'No. She's worth more than that,' he spat out. 'I want something unique. Special. Just like she is. She's been unwell and I want to do something to help cheer her up.' 

With a heavy sigh, Diego leaned forward and gently nudged his design pad out of reach of the boy's hands. 

'Look... how do you know her?' he asked, trying for a gentle tone. 'If you only speak to her online, how do you know she's not some weird... forty-year-old man who's trying- ' 

'She's _real_ ,' came the pleading, desperate tone. 'We met at summer camp. She's the only one who gets me. She's the only one I can talk to. And now she's sick and I'm the only one who's listening to her. She deserves something special. God, you wouldn't understand.' 

With a small wince, Diego looked down at his notepad. His pencil dragged a small line from the top to bottom corner as he turned it over. He couldn't just give a massive bouquet to the boy. If he did that to every customer who came in with a sob story and an empty wallet, he'd be running at a loss. A good quarter of his profit came from funerals, as depressing as it was. 

But, despite the arrogant, haughty attitude and his apparent lack of understanding on how long teenage romances lasted, there was something so utterly earnest about him. Diego did understand that. He was a romantic at heart himself- he couldn't run a store like this without being one. Sure, his own love life was sorely lacking, but he still delighted in seeing the way a bride lit up when her flowers were delivered, or the way a boyfriend would try to stifle his own excitement as he paid for a bouquet. His heart still ached a little when he saw elderly couples swapping small, ikebana-style arrangements. 

As he heaved a sigh, he scratched behind his ear. His mind was churning and he could feel the start of a plan beginning to form. Before he had a chance to speak, though, the front door chimed. 

'Hello? Hello!' 

The voice was familiar. Leaning to peer past the boy, Diego was about to call out that they were closed (despite the lights still being on, the sign stating they were open and the door being unlocked), when his eyes fall upon the peculiar man who had appeared when Mister Five PM had previously appeared in the store. 

'Oh, there you are!' 

At first, Diego thought he was the one being spoken to. Taking a sharp inhale, he leant back a little, until he noticed the way the boy had shrunk into his seat. His hands fell over his face as he shook his head and loudly groaned. 

'I've been looking everywhere for you. Your mother has been having a heart attack.' 

'She probably hasn't even noticed I'm gone,' the boy replied behind his hands. 

'Well, at the rate she smokes and drinks, she very well _could_ be having a heart attack.' 

The boy's hands fell a little. His eyes raised to the ceiling as he appeared to consider the statement. Then, with a shrug of a shoulder and a nod, he sat up a little bit. 

It was only then that the man, in his pants that sat low on his hips and fringed jacket, looked at Diego again. He smiled brightly and extended a hand. Diego couldn't help but notice that his palm seemed to be covered in ink; the angle wasn't good enough to see what it was exactly. Although ther was every chance his skin would get stained from, Diego still found himself taking it in a handshake. The angle was off, given he was still sitting, and he was mildly startled by how utterly cool the man's hand was. When he drew his hand back, he was surprised to find it still clean. 

'Thank you for watching over him, I know how troublesome he can be.' 

'Who... he's not...' Diego started, before deciding to reassess his question. 'How are you two related?' 

'We're not,' the boy drawled. 'Thankfully.' 

'He lives above me,' the man said, deliberately ruffling the boy's hair. 

'Unfortunately,' came the muttered response. Then, with a heavy sigh, he looked up. 'Klaus, I don't need you to walk me home.' 

The man (apparently named Klaus) leant over the boy's shoulder and glanced at the page Diego had been writing upon. Diego discretely attempted to close the notepad, stood, and slid it back in the drawer. He could feel Klaus' eyes on him the whole while. Turning his attention to the boy (and only now realising he still had no idea what is name was, an awkward situation Diego had no idea how to remedy), Diego cleared his throat. 

'Why don't you come back in tomorrow morning, if you have the time? I think we have a lull in bookings around eleven o'clock. We can discuss this further.' 

Before the boy had time to answer, Klaus made a noise that could only be one of delight. 

'Oh, I can drop you off. We can have lunch after, there's a delicious ramen- ' 

'You don't _drive_.' 

'We can catch the train.' Klaus turned to Diego and clicked his tongue. 'I swear, the youth of today have no gumption.' 

The boy, already groaning and pushing past Klaus to head to the door, waved a hand over his head. 

'Thank you, Mister Diego,' he called as he threw the door open. 'I'll see you Saturday.' 

Klaus followed after him, his steps almost a dance. He looked back and waved at Diego, his smile bright and cheery as he tossed the door open and the chimes tinkled overhead. He was already calling after the boy, suggesting options for dinner if he was a little hungry. 

Taking a deep breath, Diego stood there for a moment, before shaking himself and going about closing up shop. He had a few plans to finalise. Peculiarly, he hoped that Eudora would approve of his decision.


	6. [appointment book i]

**_SATURDAY_**

**_September 14 th, 2019_**

_The key is to keep company only with people who_

_uplift you, whose presence calls forth your best_

_-Epictetus_

***

9:00 – P & S Boon 

Bridal appointments 

Roses (w, r, p) 

Lilies (w, Asiatic) – giving warning about cats! 

Baby's breath 

* 

10:30 – M McKinley 

Prom, spring theme 

Pink, white 

Gold ribbon 

_NO ORANGE!!_

* 

11:00 – M.5.PM 

(see Diego!!)


	7. periwinkle

The store was open only for appointments on Saturdays. They weren't located in a part of town that had a lot of people passing by on the weekend, and Diego tended to encourage people to book their bridal appointments during the week if at all possible. He typically took the Saturday appointments on his own (though occasionally a few more traditionally-minded clients preferred Eudora, even though she didn't know her brassavolas from her catasetums), and on the days when he only had one or two appointments, he went about picking out the write-off stock and preparing an arrangement for his mother for their usual Saturday night dinner. 

That Saturday now had a twist in its plans. As he scanned the appointment book for that day, he noted the two back-to-back bookings (a bridal party and, weirdly, a spring dance despite it barely being winter). After twisting Eudora's arm in a harried phone call and explaining his conundrum (plus with an offer to let her train with him at his boxing gym), she agreed to take the shift for him. It was only as he laid in bed that night, light streaming in from the lampposts outside, that he realised she'd probably agreed to it because she wanted to take a gander at Mister Five PM for herself. 

As Saturday started, slow and lazy with Eudora's typically unusual preference for symphonic renditions of heavy metal playing throughout the store, Diego went about preparing the package for the boy. The job offer wasn't much. There was still something a little unsettling about him, and he didn't really want him trying to coax customers into purchases. But Eudora had been right- the boy wrote well, and his emails had been unnervingly polite. If he didn't know any better, Diego would have guessed him to be a fifty-year-old man. 

Diego also loathed the social media aspect side of the store. He could fumble his way through an Instagram account, and he knew enough about Facebook that he could handle that end of it. But Klaus' babbling a few days earlier had knocked it into Diego's head that he really didn't have the same grasp on social media as he had had ten years ago. Maybe the boy could set up a Snapchat. Vine. TikTok. Whatever the kids used those days. 

A few hours after school, maybe even on a Saturday while Diego had his appointments. He'd have leapt at the chance to avoid working in fast food when he was the boy's age. Sure, it might be a little weird and unexpected... but the boy didn't seem like the type who would be all that perturbed by it. Besides, Diego couldn't see him in a little blue Walmart vest and khaki pants. He just needed to smooth out his bristling edges a little. 

As he headed from his office at the back of the ground floor to the front, he could hear Eudora speaking to someone. Her voice was high pitched, not the same, soothing tone she used with clients. He liked that tone she used; it would be good when she was finally a police officer. 

'You are _so_ not what I expected,' she was saying, a laugh in her voice. 

Diego checked the time on his phone. It had just gone past ten-thirty. He'd arrived early. He'd never heard back any confirmation from the boy as to whether he was coming or not, but something inside him had suspected he would. Peering his head into the main shop, he watched as Eudora studied the small boy in front of her. Tapping his fingers over his phone, he slid it into the front pocket of the apron, his fingers still wrapped around it. 

The boy looked peculiar in street clothes. The collared t-shirt was a weird mix of business and casual, and Diego was pretty sure his jeans had been ironed. His hair seemed somehow neater and straighter, combed to one side in a style that all preppy high school kids seemed to have. Instead of looking youthful, though, he took on the air of someone twice, maybe three times his age. Even now, he was pushing his long bangs to the side as he studied Eudora. 

'I'm not sure if that's a compliment.' 

The boy's pale eyes glanced over Eudora's shoulder at Diego. Noticing it, Eudora turned and waved Diego over, a grin spread over her face. 

'Mister Five PM has arrived,' she said, stepping aside to let him pass. 

Diego glanced up to see if Klaus had also come along as promised. Peering through a window, he saw him. There, leaning against the wall beside the front door, a knee bent, Klaus stood smoking a cigarette as he scrolled through his phone. Something inside caused his heart to skip a beat. Diego told himself he just hoped Klaus didn't breeze on in once he was done smoking and interrupt Eudora's next appointment. Saturday clients were always late. 

'I've, uh- do you- ' Diego started, stumbling over his words as he finally tore his eyes away from Klaus and back to the boy. 'Let's go to my office. I have some stuff for you to read.' 

The boy took the lead, nodding firmly, and stepped around both Eudora and Diego to move past the front desk and through the door that was adjacent to it. Diego shrugged at Eudora, who looked like she was about to burst out laughing, and went to follow. As he did, he heard the chimes of the front door sound; Klaus or the prom appointment, he wasn't sure. 

The door opened up to a small corridor. To the left was the receiving dock and cool room. Further down was the kitchen, as well as the back door that opened straight up to the alley. At the end of the hall was the staircase that led upstairs to his apartment, while to the right was the office. It was cramped, but he was the only one who spent any great deal of time back here. 

Sticking his head in the office, the boy looked about and then sat himself down in the seat opposite the desk. He looked already at home, particularly when he ran his thumb down the severe part in his hair and neatened himself up. Leaving the door open, watching as his jacket that hung on the back of it swayed side to side, Diego eased himself in and side-stepped around the desk. It suddenly felt much more compact in there than it did when it was him and Eudora fighting for space. Maybe they could have done this elsewhere. 

'Thank you for inviting me today, Mister Diego,' he said, his tone just a little practised. 

Diego flinched a little at the name. 'You can just call me Diego. My surname isn't- ' 

'Eudora said you two call me Mister Five PM.' 

Even the boy seemed a little startled by the way the words came blurting out. Diego, only having just sat down opposite him, his hands smoothing over the monogrammed navy blue apron, clicked his tongue a little. He shuffled through the papers he'd printed out, eyeing the blank spot for the boy's name. He'd hoped the blank spot read more that the boy had to print his name and not that Diego obviously had no idea what it was. 

'Well... she started it,' he finally said, hating how childish it sounded. 

'I've never had a nickname before.' 

The words came quieter, a little more uneasy. He actually sounded more his age, instead of the effected, formal tone he took on. Diego glanced up, the pale eyes opposite him dropping to his hands. 

That was sad. All children deserved a nickname. It was a sign of sweetness. Fondness. 

Eudora called him Sunny Dee. Diego called her Patches. 

Diego took a breath. He held it, as he felt the syllables threatening to repeat over and over on his tongue as he slid the offer of employment over the table. As it neared his view, the boy glanced up, his chin tilting a little as his eyes began to scan the page. 

'Due to your age, there is a limitation on the number of hours you can work,' Diego said softly, evenly, deciding to skip past the melancholy admission. 'And I am expecting you to prioritise your schoolwork. I can't imagine this is your end goal in life. But being an employee here, you can also get a discount on flowers- ' 

' _Yes_.' 

'- but I still think you should be considering something more practicable for your... girlfriend.' 

Pretend or otherwise- not that Diego was about to say that. 

The boy clutched the contract in his hands as he began to read it, his eyes lighting up. It was sweet. Diego still remembered the glee he held when he was offered his first job, before he realised how soul-sucking work could be. 

The smile on the boy's face seemed a little foreign at first, as though he wasn't quite sure how to hold his mouth or how to set his jaw. There was a tension in his knuckles that melted a little as he began to scan the page. 

'I'm going to step out and speak to Eudora. You can read that and let me know what you think when I'm back.' 

The boy nodded. Standing, taking a deep breath, Diego took several steps out the door and down the corridor. It was just a line to excuse himself, give himself a moment to think- he could already hear Eudora speaking to the second appointment of the day. He lingered just behind the door frame, only partly listening out of sight as he tilted his head and tried to catch a glimpse through the window on the far side of the store. 

There was a strange feeling swelling in Diego- _pride_. He liked seeing how happy the boy was, how delighted he was to be in this position. A thought, tapping away in the corners of his mind, had him wondering what Klaus would think of it all. As he leant against the wall, his hand slipping into the apron pocket, Diego felt a small itch in his fingers, a compulsion to message his mother, to tell _someone_ what he was doing. 

'Mister Diego?' 

Startling, nearly yelping with shock, Diego turned around to see the boy standing behind him with the contract in his hands. He held it out to him, eyes wide and expectant. 

'Eudora's with a client,' Diego said quickly. 

'Yes, I imagined she was. I thought it was peculiar you were going to speak to her. I've filled out the agreement. May I start Monday?' 

Taking the pages, Diego glanced it over. There, between the boy's scrawled first and second name, was a carefully scratched _'Five'_. Diego's eyes lingered on it as he felt a smile tugging on his lips. Trying to stifle it down, he looked back up at the boy. _Five_. 

'Was there anything you wanted to discuss?' 

He half-expected some deeply thought out response. Perhaps some kind of deeply analytical query about mandated breaks, or something about the appropriate safe distance of his work environment and chemical fertiliser or... _something_. Instead, the boy just furrowed and pursed his lips tightly together. His eyes fell to the centre of Diego's chest. 

'Do I need to wear an apron?' 

Diego looked down at the simple, deep blue uniform apron he wore over his black shirt and jeans. Looking back up at Five, he nodded. 

'If you're at the front desk, yeah. It's the uniform.' 

Five gave a sigh and shrugged. 'It's gotta be more comfortable than the school blazer.' 

There was still a slight giddiness that the boy dubbed Five seemed to be struggling to keep under wraps. The corners of his mouth kept twitching, his fingers twiddling by his sides. There was something that reminded Diego over Klaus about his mannerisms, as though he'd been around the strange bundle of nervous energy wrapped in the shape of a man for too long. It was endearing. 

The corridor was cramped and Diego had to turn side on to shuffle past Five. The boy watched him, and once he explained he was going to file the acceptance away, Diego found himself being followed by a small, five-foot-two shadow. 

'Are you still coming to lunch with me and Klaus? He's stuck on this particular Japanese restaurant at the moment.' 

At the question, Diego's hip made sudden contact with the corner of his desk. It smacked, clean and hard, and he had to bite his tongue to let a few choice words come flying out in front of his newest and youngest hire. 

'I didn't know I was invited,' he said through gritted teeth, hissing the words. 

Five's eyes fell to Diego's hip as he tried to rub it and maintain an unaffected air. He'd taken less painful strikes while boxing. Appearing to be utterly unconvinced, Five lifted his gaze to meet Diego's eyes as he slipped the page into the top drawer to be dealt with later. Unlacing the back of his apron before he even noticed what he was doing, he draped it over his chair. 

'You are.' 

'I thought Klaus was only speaking to you.' 

'He was asking both of us.' 

'Was that what he was doing?' Diego muttered, mostly to himself. 

He didn't seem to be shaking Five. It wasn't like Diego really wanted to think of it like that, either. The boy was a little kooky, a little unnerving, but as he stared up at Diego with those wide, pale eyes that reminded Diego of a silver lace fern, he found his resolve breaking a little. With a heavy sigh, he threw up his hands and reached for his coat that was hanging over the back of the door. Groping his wallet that sat in the inside pocket (he knew he ought to keep it somewhere else, but old habits died hard), he pretended to give the invitation another deep thought. He swiped his phone from the apron, glanced at the distinct lack of notifications, and tossed it in his coat pocket. 

'Fine. Let's think of it as a welcome on board meal.' 

Five smiled. It was wide, albeit close-lipped, the corners of his mouth curling up like a Cheshire cat's. Diego studied it, made a mental note to maybe keep him off the front desk until he'd loosened up a little, and started out of his office. 

'Is your mother aware you're looking for a job?' he asked. 'I don't need her permission, but sometimes- ' 

'She's not home enough to warrant an opinion.' 

The words came quick, sharp. 

Taking a sharp inhale through the nose at that, Diego simply nodded. The symphonic metal had given way to some orchestral covers of video game soundtracks. Diego didn't particularly approve of Eudora's choice in music at times, but they had an agreement that whoever closed got to pick the tunes. There wasn't anything particularly offensive about it, either, and was simply his own personal tastes making him picky. 

As he entered the showroom floor, he waved in Eudora's direction. A young girl and her mother were going over flowers for the upcoming school dance. Diego quietly pained for the boy that would be her date. Mothers of the bride were often worse than the bride herself. A prom was simply breeding ground for issues. 

Eudora gave a small, upward nod as he gestured to the door. Beside him, he saw Five give a half-wave (likely as enthusiastic as he got), before Diego allowed himself to get dragged out. 

There, leaning by the wall, was Klaus. A pair of crushed cigarette butts lay by his feet. Despite the cool, mid-fall chill in the air, he wore a pair of sandals that Diego swore were Birkenstocks. He tugged the ridiculous, feathered coat around himself and spun around, grinning brightly as he spotted the two of them. 

'You just missed Ben!' he said. Diego wasn't sure who he was addressing. 'I was just telling him about you. Oh, we might still be able to catch him- ' 

Swivelling his head, Diego looked up and down the street. There were some people milling about. In the distance, he thought he saw someone walking a half dozen dogs, all connected by a belt around their waist. 

'I thought you quit smoking,' Five asked, squinting at him. 

'I thought you quit being a little snitch,' Klaus shot back. 

Diego turned back and watched the two of them, quietly wishing he could just slip back inside and heat up the chicken and rice he'd prepared the night before. It was too late, though. Klaus had pivoted on the ball of his foot and started down the street, gesturing for Diego to follow. Five was already off, a quick, focused way to his pace. Trailing behind, his hands stuffed into his jacket and holding onto his wallet and phone, Diego raced to catch up. 

'I... I'm really not that hungry,' he said, looking back over his shoulder, still attempting for an out. 

The man in the distance was trying to separate two of the dogs. Diego envied him. 

'They do this delightful green tea,' Klaus said easily. 'And this fantastic mango smoothie. Do you like mangoes?' 

'Not really.' 

Even Five looked a little offended at that. Diego shrugged at him, but before he had time to explain, Klaus had already moved on. 

'They've just started offering this matcha coffee. I haven't had it, but my friend Vanya has, and she swears by it. Apparently she can still play the violin and it doesn't effect her performance. You should hear her, she is div- is it left or right?' 

'He's not going to stop,' Five muttered, his head tilted to Diego. 

He didn't. Diego picked up his pace a little, watching as Klaus prattled on about whatever thought apparently formed in his head. He seemed to speak without pausing for breath, his hands gesturing wildly as he turned to Diego on his left and Five on his right in equal measure. He'd ask a question, pause for all of two seconds, and if no answer was forthcoming, he'd give one of his own. 

Five seemed to be able to guess whenever Klaus was stopping for breath. He'd give a quick reply, which was just enough to trip Klaus up a little. Diego watched, breathless without even having a chance to speak. He could feel his tongue forming knots as he attempted to even think of quick answers. Whenever Klaus turned to him, he nodded, shook his head, or simply shrugged. It seemed to suffice. 

He barely even knew where they were until Klaus pushed open a door to a restaurant Diego had never been to. He hadn't even known it was there. Their presence was welcomed by a cheer and greeting he didn't recognise. Diego could see straight through to the kitchen, where the food was being prepared in full view of the restaurant. He watched, quietly dazzled by the quick knife work of one of the chefs. 

As they were seated, Diego finally found himself having an opportunity to speak. He slung his jacket over the back of his chair and folded his hands on his lap. 

'Do you two go out to eat often?' 

The question wasn't what he wanted to ask. He actually wasn't sure if he had anything left over to ask, after the barrage of information that had been delivered by Klaus that he could barely recall now. 

'It's nice to venture out and find somewhere new to eat,' Klaus chirped, smiling over the table as he sat opposite Diego. Then, curious, he cocked his head to the side. 'Don't you?' 

Diego shook his head. He lived a quiet existence, the most excitement he ever really experienced being the fights at the gym. Some people might call it boring... and they'd be right. But there was a comfort to it. 

Five, excusing himself to find the bathroom, scurried off. Diego watched him, half-wishing in a bizarre way that the boy would stay. Before he had a chance to do anything else, Klaus leant over the table, his fingers tugging the cuff of Diego's shirt sleeve. 

'So, I have a question- ' 

Diego audibly gulped. His eyes widened as he watched Klaus pull out his phone. Whatever the question was, he didn't want to answer. 

'Is this you?' 

On the screen was a Photoshop-rendered drawing of himself and Luther. _SPACEBOY VS KRAKEN_. It was an old advertisement for a fight the year before. 

Taking a deep breath, Diego gave a half-laugh, which came out more as a croaking cough. Bowing his head, he twitched just a little and gave another nod. One of the waitress stopped by, setting cups at each of the seats, as well as a pot of hot tea. Klaus thanked her, presumably in Japanese, and went about pouring each of them a cup. 

'Are you any good?' 

'I'm decent, for my weight class. The fight was a farce.' 

'Isn't that illegal?' 

'Maybe, if anyone was seriously betting. It was for charity.' 

'Do your boxer friends know you're a florist?' 

'You ask a lot of questions.' 

Klaus had picked up the delicate ceramic mug, the green tea wafting in front of his face. The corner of his lips were quirked into a smile, the cup raised to his lips. There seemed to be a joke he was missing out on, and Diego wasn't sure if he wanted to know the punchline. 

'I just want to know who my son is going to be working for.' 

'I'm not your son,' Five said curtly as he returned, pulling out his chair sharply and sitting down to Diego's left. 'I'd be horrified and ashamed to be your son.' 

'And I would be delighted and thrilled to have a boy as insolent as you to call my own. Why, when I was your age- oh, look, they've got fresh sashimi- ' 

The newest, fanciest thing to catch Klaus' eye had him pausing to wave down a waitress. Diego finally took a look at the menu, letting out a sigh of relief. He couldn't recall the last time he'd had Japanese- if he'd had it at all, beyond the grocery store sushi that Eudora sometimes brought for lunch. 

'I really am thankful, Mister Diego,' Five said quietly as Klaus was distracted. 'This is quite exciting.' 

At the boy's soft words, Diego just smiled to himself again. He didn't even mind when Klaus tugged at his shirt sleeve again and asked what he wanted to eat. After admitting that he had no idea what was good, or what he'd even enjoy, Klaus took it upon himself to order him something on his behalf. 

'What if I don't like it?' Diego asked as he passed the menu to the waitress. 

' _Gewöhnungsbedürftig_.' 

Diego shook his head. 'What?' 

A slow, easy smile formed on Klaus' lips. 

'You'll get used to it.' 

That sounded like a challenge. Tilting his chin up a little, Diego finally picked up his cup and raised it to his lips. He wasn't so sure about that; he was set in his ways, and found a deep comfort in it. But as the green tea passed his lips, unusual and new, he turned to Five who was quietly watching the chef prepare their meal. Klaus was grinning and pointing out to Five what they were doing. Maybe there wasn't any harm in broadening his horizons just a little. 


	8. heather

It was funny how Five's presence in the store began to cause a shift in the atmosphere. Eudora seemed continuously tickled by his being there, a constant wry grin on her face whenever he pottered around the store, scanning stock in or putting it away. There was a change in attitude with the customers, too; Diego noted how the older customers were drawn to him, asking his opinion on arrangements or styles, while the younger customers seemed to study him, and then hurry up to see what shelf he'd been working on once he'd left. 

Although Diego had been a little worried about how Five would handle being on the floor when they had clientele, his concerns seemed almost unneeded. While Five always paused and needed a short moment to process what was being asked of him, he took it all in stride and managed to handle what was thrown his way. It was impressive, just how malleable he could be. The small influx of customers from the private girl's school down the road, buying cheap arrangements just in the hopes of catching a glimpse of the youngest store assistant didn't hurt, either. Diego was finally shifting some of the unordered, unwanted stock of sunflowers. 

Those damn crates had continued to arrive at an almost daily rate. After some deliberation, Diego had decided to stop storing them in the cool room. He had other, more pressing stock to keep in there. A box was always on the display room floor. He'd begun to make arrangements for the local hospital, while Eudora had taken one to a local homeless shelter. Five had even taken a few bunches home with him, though Diego wasn't sure who he'd given them to- it didn't seem like his mother was home all that often. The flowers were being sold for a buck a bloom, with small arrangements costing five dollars and larger arrangements ten. Luther had even been the recipient of a few bunches, when he'd let Diego know there was a woman he was trying to work up the nerve to ask out. 

It was difficult to explain to people who didn't walk in the store why Diego was so perturbed by the arrival of sunflowers. Sure, he wasn't being charged for them, but he was still worried about the possibility of the cost of the flowers being added at a later date. He also had nowhere to store them, a fact that was beginning to wreak havoc everyday. He'd smell them as soon as he woke up, the flowers wafting up the stairs to his second-floor home. They lingered in the kitchenette next to the office, making everything taste of flowers. The bathroom had taken on a distinct floral scent that not even chemicals could eradicate. 

Even the delivery folk were beginning to take note of it. The dour-faced woman had begun to develop a twitch in her eye as Diego signed off on the stock, and the man had begun to look a little guilty as he'd unload the crates. Neither of them seemed to feel bad enough to stop delivering it all, though. 

Five worked a few days after school during the week, only for a few hours, plus Saturday mornings. Eudora's preparation for the police academy was beginning to ramp up. Diego had already helped her cut back her hours a little so she could focus on both her study plus her physical training. Although he felt she was perhaps going to a little over-the-top (she was joining the police and not the Marines, after all), he bit his tongue and let her go ahead. He didn't want his jealousy playing a card. 

What it meant, though, was that he was occasionally on his own. He didn't mind it all that much. Diego could appreciate his own company. Tuesdays they were quiet during the day, until Five turned up after school. Most Wednesdays he was also on his own, where he spent the bulk of the day working on orders that didn't need to be done fresh. Although the workroom was in another room, he could hear the gentle jingle of the chimes when customers entered. It was only a door away, and if he strained his neck, he could see the front counter 

It was what he did that afternoon, a Wednesday a few weeks after Five had started. Wiping his hands on the towel, his fingertips stained a little green from where he'd been cutting various stems, he stepped from the workroom. There, with his nose halfway down a honeysuckle, was Klaus. Willowy and tall like an overgrown vine, he draped himself over a display, his fingers brushing over the delicate, waxy petals, his thumb tracing the silvery green leaves. 

There was a stillness to him. A thoughtfulness, a delicateness. Diego had never seen him pause, as though he was taking a breath before his next burst of energy. He didn't want to move. He just wanted to stand there, leaning in the doorway between workroom and showroom, and watch as Klaus considered the three-tier floral arrangement Diego had set up the day before for the start of the Christmas season. 

As he leant into the doorway, the frame creaked. Freezing, he held his breath as Klaus spun, his bright, green eyes locking in on Diego. There was a hesitation, as though he was trying to decide how to appropriately react. He seemed caught between embarrassment and playing it cool, not unlike a cat. 

It was a feeling that was ultimately shared. 

Before Diego could say anything, Klaus filled the empty space. 

'I was told you had a lot of sunflowers. He didn't mention these, though.' 

'The white ones are honeysuckle,' Diego said, approaching slowly. 'The yellow ones are wintersweet. I wouldn't recommend having them on their own in a vase as they can get a little lost, but if you add some green foliage, they make a beautiful centrepiece.' 

'I thought honeysuckles were meant to be yellow.' 

'Flowers can be surprising.' 

Klaus nodded, his eyes locked upon Diego. For a moment, Diego thought he was going to forget how to walk. His fingers curled into his palms, his breath getting caught in his throat as he met him at the front of the store. There was a lush display of various wintertime flowers, most intended to be filler in bigger displays. Pulling out his pruners from his apron, he took hold of one of the stems and cut it low at the base. 

'Daphnes are always a winner. My mother always had a pot of them growing right outside my window in winter.' 

He held the stem up for Klaus to take. Curious, Klaus took it and raised it to his nose. The small, lilac-white petals brushed over his skin and the short hair of his beard. Diego wasn't sure why he was so watching so intently, nor why he suddenly found himself unable to look away. 

'Aren't sunflowers summer flowers?' Klaus asked. He had a smile on his lips as he twirled the stem about, still sniffing the blossoms. 

'They are, yes.' 

'So why do you have so many?' 

With a sigh, Diego looked over his shoulder. An entire shelf was stacked with different arrangements, all filled with sunflowers. He had to admit, all the flowers were lush and full, as though it were still the middle of summer. 

'A shipping mishap. I think. I hope.' 

Klaus smiled. It was slow, his teeth catching his lower lip. Still holding the sprig that Diego had cut for him, he slid it behind his ear where it stuck up in the mess of curls. His hands were quickly shoved deep in the pockets of his jeans that seemed a size too small. 

'You know Five isn't here,' Diego said, unsure why he was saying that. He spun the pruners around, letting them twirl around his fingers. 'He doesn't work until the afternoon.' 

'Who?' Klaus asked, squinting. 'Oh, you mean- ' 

There came a small crash as Diego dropped the pruners. He'd grown distracted with how he'd been twirling them, trying to maintain a casual air. Hiccuping a little in surprise, he hurriedly picked them up and shoved them down into the front pocket of his blue apron. They didn't have the same weight distribution as his switchblade that he used to slice off thorns. 

'I know,' Klaus went on, unperturbed. 'I came to see you.' 

'What? Why?' 

Now it was Klaus' turn to look a little baffled. His mouth opened and closed, his wide eyes darting to look up at the topmost shelf above Diego's head. The soft purple blossoms kept brushing over an eyebrow, the contrast in colours catching Diego's eye. 

'Oh. No reason,' he said, with a tone of voice that suggested that there were plenty of reasons. 'He speaks highly of you. And your sunflowers. And I just... would like some.' 

Diego took a moment to process that. 'Sunflowers?' 

'Yes.' 

'How many?' 

Now it was Klaus' turn to think again. He eyeballed the shelf to his right. 'Five?' 

'Five?' Diego repeated. 'Five... stems?' 

'Five of... those.' 

'Sunflower centrepieces?' 

Klaus nodded again. 'Yeah. Exactly. In the... vase and box and... that basket thing.' 

Diego eyed the arrangements in question, then turned his gaze back to Klaus. He was struggling to follow the thought process at play here, but he wasn't about to stop Klaus if it meant moving some of the stock. With a slow nod himself, he scratched behind his ear. The sprig of daphne was still sticking out behind Klaus' ear. 

'Now?' 

'Uh. No. Can you deliver them?' Klaus asked quickly. 

Clicking his tongue slowly, a verbal tic that he had picked up from his childhood speech therapy lessons, Diego continued to scratch behind his ear. His eyes flickered to the small flowers by Klaus' temple, watching as one of the petals came loose and hung in a small curl. It was sweet. Diego had an urge to reach over and pluck it out, maybe encourage Klaus to make a wish. His tongue brushed over the corner of his mouth, before his mind caught up and he realised he had yet to answer him. He didn't quite have the courage to be as forward as that. 

'Yeah, that's not a problem. We have two courier types. Same day and advanced booking. Someone will need to sign for them- ' 

'Do you deliver them yourself?' 

The question was abrupt. Fumbling a little, Diego watched as Klaus picked up one of the vases. It was a slimline vertical display, made of sunflowers and alstroemerias. Bright and cheerful, it was bound to light up any room. It suited Klaus. 

'Occasionally on busier days we use an agency. But if it's local, then I do.' 

A hint of a smile appeared on Klaus' lips. Arching a brow, Diego watched as Klaus turned away and began to busy himself by studying the different bunches of flowers, his nose stuffed into the bouquet. Uncertain what to make of all of it, Diego clicked his tongue again and made a small gesture towards what Klaus was holding. Meanwhile, his thumb was brushing over the scar in his brow. 

'The one you're holding is fifty dollars.' 

'What about the one in the jug?' 

Klaus had already breezed along, passing the vase to Diego as he began to examine each item on display. Although Diego had been sceptical of Klaus' claim that he wanted five separate centrepieces (each, apparently, two weeks apart from what he said as they started to discuss the logistics of it all), the longer they went on, the more serious he seemed to be. Much like Five, money didn't seem to be an abrupt concern. 

Other customers came in. Klaus would grow quiet and make a gesture for Diego to serve them. He just stood there, eventually pulling out his phone or a notepad, and started tapping or scratching away. Diego couldn't see what he was doing, as he was too busy guiding the customers towards various cacti, herbs, and, in one instance, cat-friendly flowers. During a free moment, he pulled out an album from under the front counter and motioned for Klaus to flick through it. His eyes still scanned the store, occasionally catching a curl of hair, or the sound of footsteps somewhere in the corner. No sunflowers were sold in that time. 

As he returned back to Klaus the last time, only barely realising an hour had passed and the peculiar man had stuck around, Diego felt far calmer. In a scene that reminded Diego vividly of Five and his insistence on an elaborate display for his Canadian girlfriend, he took a moment just to watch as Klaus flicked through the album of previous arrangements or displays. Unlike Five, who seemed to have been searching for the most elaborate bouquet possible, Klaus appeared to be taking his time and admiring each one. 

'These are gorgeous,' he said, only briefly looking up to see where Diego was. 'They're like works of art.' 

'Oh.' A little stunned by the compliment, he rocked back and forth on his heels, before taking a seat opposite him. 'I suppose, a little. I mean, they're not being displayed in a gallery or anything like that... they're just flowers.' 

Klaus looked up over the table. He smiled, a faint, coy look on his face, before he went back to looking through the album. A wave of heat crossed Diego's face that he tried to hide by leaning on the table and cover his cheek with a hand. Klaus had damn near draped himself over the chair he sat upon, the position looking awkward and uncomfortable- and yet he didn't seem inclined to move. 

After a discussion, Diego eventually drew up an order for a centrepiece of sunflowers surrounded by delphiniums and daffodils in a deep vase. Sprigs of rosemary completed it, primarily at Klaus' insistence that he enjoyed the smell. Diego seemed a little baffled by the collection of flora, but Klaus kept pulling pictures of bright yellow flowers up on his phone. 

'When would you want these delivered by?' Diego asked as he began pricing the arrangement up. After a moments consideration, he decided to add the employee discount. It was Five's pretend father, after all. 

'Is Saturday okay?' 

With a hum, Diego drummed his fingers on the table. Pushing himself up, he headed to the front counter and picked up the appointment book. There was a function on the night before, but he had nothing more than a few posies to arrange for some fashion shoot on Saturday. With a nod, he returned to the desk. 

'I'll order the flowers tonight, they'll arrive tomorrow. I can have them ready for you by Saturday afternoon.' 

Klaus lit up. Diego caught the expression. The way his eyes widened, the way he sat up a little straighter. Ultimately, it likely meant nothing. Flowers were lovely to have. Perhaps there was someone in Klaus' life, maybe he just really liked yellow flowers. Hell, even Diego still took a good measure of joy in arranging flowers for his mother, just to see the smile on her face. 

'Where would you like them delivered to?' Diego asked, a little distracted as he continued down the order sheet, sitting back down opposite Klaus. 

There was a pause. Then, with a deep breath, Klaus hunched over the table a little. 

'Can I pick them up myself? My buddy, Ben, he lives just down the road, and I can swing by...' 

Although it seemed like Klaus had been interested in them being hand delivered, Diego accepted the change of heart. With a nod, he scratched out the delivery fee, made a note that they were being picked up, and smiled back up at Klaus. 

With the deposit settled and Klaus was handed a card with a pick-up time, Diego tried to hide the smile on his face as he walked him to the door. Without Five to provide a buffer (and a distraction), Klaus seemed a little calmer. There was still a nervous, flighty energy about him,but he also seemed far more grounded, far more focused, even though he kept twitching a little, his eyes darting over to Diego to see what he was doing. Occasionally, his fingers would tug at his shirt, and a ball chain would become momentarily visible around the back of his neck before it was pushed back underneath, hidden from view. Diego couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to have Klaus' sole attention, his sole focus. 

The daphne was still tucked behind Klaus' ear. Lifting his hand, Klaus brushed a few curls around it to keep it in place. 

'Saturday, then.' 

Diego nodded. 'Five will be in then, too. If you wanted to... I don't know. Bring him a sandwich?' 

Klaus laughed. Then, unexpectedly clapping Diego on the shoulder, he pivoted on the ball of his foot and stepped out into the cool, late afternoon air. It felt like a gust of air had billowed out with him, the store suddenly seeming to be all in disarray and Klaus being the eye of the storm.


	9. [delivery receipt i]

_Pickup date: 20191005_

_Pickup time: 11:00AM_

_Customer name: Klaus F._

_Arrangement style: SUNF-006_

_PAID IN FULL_

_Employee discount applied_

*

Thank you for your purchase. We hope it meets your expectations. 

If you have any queries, please quote invoice number [ **1968-KF-4** ]. 

We looked forward to seeing you again soon! 

*

_Just living is not enough... one must have sunshine, freedom, and a little flower._

_-Hans Christian Andersen_


	10. sainfoin

Saturday came by quicker than Diego had anticipated. The days felt busier, in a strange way. Five came in on Thursday afternoon when it was quiet to help Diego with counting stock and preparing the bookings for Saturday. He had an eye for detail that Diego could appreciate it. Everything was laid out neatly, even down to the shears and ribbon that Diego would use to wrap the flowers. 

With Five manning the store, Diego could sit out the back in his workroom, preparing the arrangements. Although he hadn't been entirely planning on putting Five out the front so early on, he couldn't help but admit that the boy had a certain charisma to him. If he kept the door open, he could hear what was happening in the main store while he sat, wrapping and arranging his deliveries. 

Despite the relatively late notice of Klaus' desire for an arrangement, it was quite simple to prepare. Diego actually had more fun with it than he'd expected. The flowers that had been picked were a little bizarre (all things considered), but they came together well. Diego took his time presenting them in a long vase, trimming the stems of each and cutting back the leaves with his switchblade. Although Klaus hadn't specified, he filled the bottom with gemstones that caught the light and made it seem like a pastel rainbow was spilling up from the bottom. It was complimented with a large, black bow tied at the front. Although Diego didn't think this particularly colour scheme would take off, there was something to be said about how bright and joyful the whole image was. Taking a quick snap with his phone to have Five upload on the store's Instagram account later, he went to work on gathering the other smaller pieces that he had to deliver Monday morning. 

As Diego showed Five the procedure for closing the store, Klaus arrived. He breezed in with a smile and a fur-cuffed jacket that Diego swore he'd seen once on a poster for a burlesque show. His vase was already sitting on the counter, a small card skewered down the side if the vase with his name written on it in Diego's best cursive. 

'I brought sandwiches, at Diego's request.' 

Swallowing hard, Diego turned and pretended to busy himself with handing Five the till to put in the back safe. 

'It was a suggestion. Not a- ' 

'It's not bologna, is it?' Five cut him off, apparently not at all concerned about who requested sandwiches or why. 

Klaus made a hacking noise that indicated that no, it most definitely was not. 

Taking the till, Five just shook his head and turned to put the cash away in the safe hidden in the office. He had picked it all up quickly. Although Diego didn't think any of his duties were particularly difficult, he had to keep in mind he was a fourteen-year-old boy and his maturity was unexpected. Diego had yet to quite figure out how often his mother was around (and from the sounds of it, his father wasn't on the scene), and if that had effected the way Five carried himself. Klaus, for better or worse, seemed to have filled the niche of concerned, involved guardian figure. 

As Five left them alone, Diego found himself pretending to be busy as he closed down the computer and neatened out the counter. Klaus had already spotted the arrangement, and he made an audible noise of delight as he turned it over. 

'Is this mine?' he asked, gesturing to it. 

Taking a breath, Diego braced himself. He always had a slightly nervous thrill when he was presenting a display to a first-time customer. That anticipation, the slight worry of whether they would like it or not. There were definitely days when he just wanted to put Eudora in his place, especially if they were particularly fussy or fastidious. It didn't seem to quite matter how many repeat customers he had- one disappointed client always caused Diego's mood to droop. 

With a difficult nod, he looked up at Klaus and made a surprised noise, as though he'd strangely forgotten as to why he was there. 

'Yeah. I know we didn't discuss the ribbon or stone- ' 

'It's gorgeous.' 

Klaus had crouched down a little to look at it better. Turning the vase one way and then the other to watch the light catch in the stones, he gave a low whistle. His eyes, wide and so very green and ringed in what looked like eyeliner and mascara, were locked on the shifting light. As a slow grin spread over his lips, he nodded, clearly delighted by the shimmering stones. 

'I love it. This is perfect.' 

'I was going to use a white ribbon, but the black- ' 

'The contrast. Yeah, I can see it. This is absolutely perfect, thank you.' 

A rush of heat went through Diego. It didn't matter how many times he heard it. Just like having a customer be disappointed in the arrangement he had made them could drastically change his mood, hearing someone love his work lifted his spirits to new heights. His thumb ran a little distractedly along the side of his face, into his hairline and then over to the scar that cut through his brow. His teeth began to worry his lower lip as he told himself to calm down. Klaus was like anyone else- a customer, a client, and Diego had simply done his job. 

'I had fun,' he admitted. 'I haven't had an opportunity to do something so... _happy_ like that in a while.' 

'Really?' 

Diego nodded. 'Weddings, proms, anniversaries... they're all romance. Whimsy. And there's nothing wrong with that, it's fun, I enjoy it, but... something so happy as yours. It was a welcome change.' 

As Diego finished his musings, Five returned. He headed over to Klaus, who had already slid the satchel he'd been carrying off his shoulder and held it out to the boy. Five opened it up and rummaged inside, before digging out a plastic wrap covered sandwich. He peeled the wrap back, lifted a corner of the sandwich suspiciously, and, in a move Diego hadn't expected, looked up at Klaus with a beaming smile. His whole face seemed to change, from moody teen to someone who actually looked friendly. 

'Awesome,' he murmured in a very teen-like manner. Then, turning to Diego, 'I'll see you next week, Mister Diego.' 

Although Diego hadn't quite expected Five to stick around, he did watch in quiet surprise and confusion as he waltzed out. The chimes above the door rang out as he stepped out onto the street, a bite already taken out of his sandwich (which smelled exactly like a fluffernutter). As he left, Diego took note of the door sign having been flicked over to _CLOSED – sorry!_. 

'He has a date with his girlfriend,' Klaus said as he picked up the sunflower arrangement. 

'The Canadian one?' 

'Yeah, it's some kind of Internet thing. They both eat popcorn and watch a movie simultaneously on Netflix. It's adorable.' 

Yeah, even Diego had to admit that seemed incredibly sweet. Pursing his lips together, he shook his head and slid the appointment book back under the counter. As he did, Klaus cleared his throat and picked up the flower arrangement. 

'Are you doing anything? Now, I mean?' 

Lifting his eyes, Diego felt his heart skip a beat. It didn't mean anything. He and Eudora did stuff all the time. He had friends. Hell, even he and Luther would go and grab a bite to eat after a session at the gym. Klaus was just new. Fun. Interesting. Different. Waiting for a damn answer. 

'Not really,' he said quietly. 

'D'you wanna grab a coffee?' Klaus asked, quicker and smoother than Diego had prepared himself for. 'We could talk about the second arrangement.' 

Right. Of course. Yes, that was it. Klaus had weirdly, bizarrely, asked for five centrepieces and this was just the first. Diego had remembered that. 

Taking a deep, sharp breath in through his noise, Diego gave a firm nod. Unlacing his apron, he pulled it over his head and folded it once. Draping it across the back of the stool that sat behind the counter, he gave a final check around the store. He took his time, as though he wasn't eager to race it and find out more about this strange man. Gathering up the keys, as well as his wallet and phone, he headed out to the main shop floor. 

'There's a cafe just down the way. They should still be open. We could go there,' Diego suggested, as casual as ever. 

With an eager nod, Klaus held the vase in his arms and went to follow him out. The blinds were drawn, the code to the alarm was punched in and the deadbolt was secured. Out of the corner of his eye, Diego continuously glanced over at Klaus, curious and quiet. He had dressed up his idea of picking the flowers up as a way to see his friend (Ben, Diego was sure he was called), but he couldn't help but wonder if it had been for another purpose. 

Maybe Five wouldn't feed himself if Klaus didn't give him a sandwich. That could just be it. 

'Do you live nearby?' Klaus asked, looking up and down the street. 

'Mm-hmm.' Diego nodded and pointed to the second floor. 'That's me.' 

That actually seemed to surprise Klaus. He could see his mind ticking over as he considered it, looking up at his small apartment complex, then down at the store underneath. Up and down, a strange, thoughtful look on his face as he turned to look further at the building. 

'What's down there?' he finally asked, taking a side step to the alleyway that ran down the side of the building. 

'That leads down to the rear entrance,' Diego explained, gesturing as he did so. 'You can enter the second floor through the back door. It's great when the store is open and I don't want to be bothered. Or if, like now, the alarm is on and I don't want to go through the rigmarole of disabling it.' 

As he spoke, Klaus' head tilted to the side. He nodded, a fingertip pressing against his lips. Diego watched the vase carefully, the bright yellow blooms catching his goatee. He was a little worried about it being dropped, but it seemed that Klaus had a firmer grip on it that he'd expected. He kept moving it from side to side, sending the flowers spinning about in the gemstone-filled bottom. 

'The wall's a little bland, isn't it?' he said finally. 'A store like yours, it should have something eye catching.' 

'It's an alleyway. Nobody would see it.' 

'Not from the direction we're heading, sure. But the other direction, they would. You should have some colour. Look at it, it's just a brownstone like all the others. You should have... blue. Yeah, blue. Like a robin egg. A turquoise. And then some sort of bold, black-and-white image overlaid.' 

'What are you, a painter?' Diego asked with a laugh. 

Klaus only smiled at him. Looking over, waiting for more of a response, Diego felt his cheeks begin to burn as it sunk in. 

'Wa... wait... are you...?' 

Klaus nodded, his chin lifted a little, a glimmer of pride in his expression. 

'I mostly work with canvas,' he admitted. 

Taking a sharp breath through his nose, Diego tried to shift the heat from his cheeks. He rubbed his neck, rubbed his hands, turned his eyes away. Try as he might, though, his memory began to cycle through the compliments Klaus had littered him. Or, rather, the compliments Klaus had given his _work_. The way he'd described it as art, the use of colour. 

'Oh. That's... that's...' 

There wasn't a chance Diego was going to be able to speak. A flustered embarrassment had begun to overwhelm him, an emotion that tapped into the same, unsteady anxiety that tended to cause his stutter to raise its ugly head. Although adulthood meant he had learnt how to control his stutter to a high degree, certain things still caused it to flare up. Having his work so soundly complimented was one of the ways it happened. Even having his mother gush over a particular arrangement had Diego covering his cheeks and gritting his teeth together so he didn't begin to lose it. 

This was also typically the point where people began to question him about it. They would notice how the corners of his mouth would turn down, or how he'd develop a twitch in his jaw. Diego had always been a man of few words (actions, in his opinion, always spoke louder). But he'd clam up and a tightness would spread across him. Even now, he could feel it building, over his chest and pectorals, to his shoulders and down his back. His thumb rubbed at his scar habitually, hoping the physical sensation would loosen his tongue. 

Klaus, surprisingly, didn't say anything. Diego could tell he noticed. He looked over and saw the man studying him, a quirk in an eyebrow indicating curiousity. But, when Diego didn't speak, he just carried on. 

'I like oils best. I love the texture of them, how you can actually see the paint on the canvas. It's so tactile. It's a lot like floristry in that way, don't you think? Is that the right word, floristry? It doesn't sound right. I also like working with clay, but that's more of a side hobby than anything.' 

On he went, filling the silence between them until Diego's tongue loosened and he could move it in his mouth. He nodded, wetting his lips as he focused on Klaus' voice. Soft and wry, a humour to all he said. As they reached the cafe, he felt his vocal cords loosen, the tension melting away. 

'I like b... boxing,' he said, joining in on the conversation at last, only skipping over one of the syllables. 'It's real. Solid. Tactile. Like clay.' 

Avoiding the tricky sounds had become a dance in of itself. But if Klaus heard (and he must have, Diego knew he must've), he didn't let on. Diego actually appreciated the way he kept talking. 

'Do you have matches often?' 

With a small shrug, Diego screwed up his face a little and shook his head. The cafe was bustling with takeaway orders, but the tables were empty and Klaus, taking the lead despite this being Diego's recommendation, guided them to a sit near one of the windows. 

'Not any more. I used to. But it doesn't look good to customers if I have a black eye,' Diego went on, his voice flowing a little smoother as they sat. 'But I still spar. It's a good outlet.' 

The floral arrangement was placed on the edge of the table facing the window. It still brought a smile to Diego's face, despite having worked on it. Klaus' fingers brushed over the larger of the daffodil petals. The angle of his hand revealed the chipped remains of a dark nail polish and a flash of ink in his palm. Diego, curious as ever, wanted to see more of it, but the hand was withdrawn before he had a chance. 

'Oh, would you look at that, they do a dirty chai,' he remarked as he studied the menu. 

And, with that, Klaus had moved onto the next topic. Weirdly, there was something thrilling and peculiarly comforting with the breakneck speed at which Klaus moved from topic to topic. It wasn't with the same high energy that filled the room when Five was about. This was different. Instead of a childish glee, there was a giddiness. Diego, when he wasn't at the gym, lived a quiet, steady life. He moved slowly, peacefully, taking his time as he planned his day, his week, his month. But with Klaus, there was a vibrancy to it. 

He was like the floral arrangement that sat beside them. Diego could see the pieces that came together, the way it all tied up. Klaus was an artist- that was his profession, yes. But, as he spoke about whatever topic came into his mind, Diego could see that he was a performer, too. His smile lit up the room, his eyes (whenever they locked on Diego's own, and that seemed to be an ongoing thing that was developing as time went by) were wide and bright. He leaned forward as he spoke, as though pulling Diego into a conspiratorial secret, even if it was to talk about how Five's mother was a particular see-you-next-Tuesday. 

Diego drank it in, in lieu of his coffee. It grew from lukewarm to cool to cold, barely untouched. Klaus finished his own, and if the caffeine had any effect, it was impossible to tell. His hands flew about, waving above his head, while his foot occasionally kicked under the table and smacked against Diego's own. He'd apologise, and a few minutes later it would happen again. Diego didn't mind. 

_God_ , he hated how he didn't mind. 

The second floral arrangement was spoken about in sweeping terms. Yellow and pink and purple and green. Diego just nodded, the image being painted for him in wide ideas. He wished he had his notepad to sketch it all down, to get a better idea. But Klaus spoke so vividly, so brightly, that he could see it in his head. 

Sunflowers and peach blossoms and holly leaves. A peculiar combination, but Klaus was someone who marched to the beat of his own drum. Much as the bright yellow arrangement before it, this would be something new. 

Diego found himself leaning against the table, his elbow propped up and chin resting on his hand. Klaus was already damn near draped on it, his legs somehow crossed on the small chair, his hands moving back and forth with such a speed that Diego couldn't see what was written on them. His voice washed over him and he nodded, taking it all in. 

It was partway through a vivid discussion of one of Klaus' celebutante friends (a woman that Diego only partly recognised the name of, Allison something-or-other), that Klaus suddenly sat up straight and tapped on the window. 

'Ben! Oh, it's Ben, I should introduce you- ' 

Beside them, a waitress had approached and loudly cleared her throat. As though being lightly pulled from his reverie, Diego looked about. The cafe had cleared out and they were the last ones there. One of the baristas was pointedly wiping down the counter in a manner that Diego read as being for the third or fourth time. Turning back to Klaus, who was swearing and muttering that Ben had already disappeared, Diego began to peel himself up. 

'Sorry,' he murmured to the waitress apologetically. 'We should- ' 

'I need to run,' Klaus said, leaping up before Diego could even moved. 'I have one of Ben's books and he is going to kill me if I don't get it back to him. Can I- next week, yeah?' 

Klaus leapt off. Diego had barely even put the thought into pushing to stand. Klaus started out the door, racing to catch the friend Diego couldn't see, before he pivoted and hurried back in. With a hasty apology first in German and then in English, he dived for the table. For a split second, Diego found himself with Klaus coming close towards him. A hand landed on his shoulder and he sat there, still and with baited breath, as Klaus reached over. Then, with a measure of disappointment, he watched as the vase was scooped up and Klaus laughed. 

'Whoops. Nearly forgot!' 

Diego just made a small, guttural noise. 

With a trill and a whistle, Klaus turned for the second time and started back out, calling out Ben's name. 

Next week. Of course. Diego would likely need that long to recuperate. 


	11. [packing slip iii]

Invoice Number: 3012GA-3 

Date: October 8h 2019 

*

_Graceful Arrangements_

c/o 

Diego Hargreeves 

*

Thank you for your purchase! 

Please check that all items listed below have been received and agree with your order. Please report any discrepancies noted immediately to our customer service centre. 

There are no exchanges for insect damage, nor any exchanges for frost between December 1st and March 1st. 

*

**ITEMS SHIPPED**

_Lactuca sativa_

[XXX] 

_Euphorbia pulcherrima_

_-classic red_

_-classic white_

_-euphorbia autumn leaves_

[XXX] 

_Erica_

_-darleyenesis_

_-carnea_

  


[XXX] 

_Daphne pontica_

*

Thank you for your continued support! 


	12. alstroemeria

It seemed like Eudora's initial police assessment came tearing down quicker than Diego had anticipated. He thought he had been well prepared, even though he wasn't the one sitting it. The two of them had been preparing for it during quiet moments in the workshop, sitting on the crates the sunflowers had been delivered in. They'd share salami and cheese sandwiches, carrot sticks and hummus, bottles of sparkling water and Vietnamese iced coffee. Diego would fuss over small, delicate arrangements with a pair of shears on his lap and a knife between his teeth, while Eudora would effortlessly answer the test questions he threw her way. 

Even Five had gotten involved. He'd sit with one of the preparation guides on his lap while Diego would pretend to know what the hell he was meant to be doing while he looked over the boy's math homework. 

Yet, with all that in play, Diego still found himself shocked when the inevitable date arrived. He actually seemed more nervous than Eudora. He sent her a text message the morning of the interview, despite there not being a doubt in his heart or his head that she would pass through it with flying colours. He wondered why she had never gone for it beforehand. 

By ten AM, he'd received a text message from Five, a short question of, _any word?_

_Not yet,_ Diego replied. Then, hurriedly, _arent u meant to be in class?_

A lick before twelve came another text message. Although he didn't recognise the number, he knew this one was from Klaus. For one, it was filled with emojis of police cars, bright alarms, and, secondly and most peculiarly, a sign off at the end. It seemed like such a baby boomer thing to do. 

_you-know-who said eudora had her interview today......... do I need to be worried??? jokes!!! K x_

Diego's eyes lingered on the last two letters of Klaus' message. His thumb drifted over it, his nails tapping at the glass of the screen. His fingers twitched as he read it over, a bizarre and unfounded idea flitting through his head for a breath that perhaps Klaus was interested in Eudora and was hoping Diego would put in a good word. Diego rationally knew the two hadn't been properly introduced. 

Before the idea could lay roots and grow into something more, the door chime rang out. Looking up from the counter where he'd been clipping back the thorns on some of the roses, Diego closed his switchblade knife and peered over the shelves. At the end of the row was Eudora, her eyes bright, hair a frizzy mess the way it went when she'd been playing with it. 

A breath. A beat. 

Then, with a squeal that she so rarely let out, she gave a shriek of happiness. Leaping off his chair, Diego hurried around the front desk, his hip clipping the corner. He bounced off, hissing in pain as Eudora laughed and leapt towards him. Opening his arms up, Diego pulled her into a tight hug. Before he could lift her, though, he found his feet being pulled up from the ground as she heaved him up. A croaking noise came from Diego as he was spun around once and deposited rather neatly down. 

'So it went well?' he asked as he swayed side-to-side to get his balance. Tugging his shirt down, he shook his head and looked her over. 

'I don't want to say they're proceeding with the background check, _but_...' 

It was Diego's turn to pick her up and swing her around. He didn't even mind the shriek in his ear. Sure, there was a low simmer of envy going through him, but Eudora's joy was palpable and Diego couldn't and wouldn't let it get in the way. With a bright, wide grin, he squeezed her hands and watched as she swung around the counter and took a seat on top of the stool. She was positively vibrating, the smile on her face not going down as she swung her legs back and forth and tried to busy herself with the flowers on top of the counter. 

'I think... no, I _know_ I did well. A few hiccups, sure, but it was... God, I killed it. I know it.' 

Diego knew it, too. Leaning opposite her on the counter, one foot hooked around the other ankle, he drew some of the flowers back towards himself and went up completing the wreath he'd been working on. Sure, this was the kind of work he ought to be doing out the back, but he'd been wanting to keep his hands busy and still keep an eye on the front of the store. 

'That's wonderful, Eudora. If they call me for a character reference, you know I'll give you a good one.' 

Maybe there was a trace of bitterness in his voice. As he reached for his shears, Eudora's hand covered his own. Her hand, warm and lightly callused from her efforts at the gym, forced his to stop. Looking up, Diego met her eye. 

He hadn't really been with anyone since they had broken up for the last time some eighteen months earlier. Sure, he'd gone on the odd date here and there. A few awkward dinners with women, a few messy hookups at bars. Luther had even tried to set him up on a date, which had been utterly disastrous (there was a reason why Diego had to play wingman to him and not the other way around). There had been nothing more than a quick fondle that left him frustrated and more annoyed at himself than anything. 

'I'm proud of you, too, you know,' she said gently. 'The store is doing so well. Look at all you've built.' 

'And you want to give this all up to go chase bad guys on the streets, huh?' 

Eudora rolled her eyes, but it was fond. Letting go of his hand, she turned to the computer monitor. From the change in light, he knew she was pulling up the emails. Turning back to the sunflower-based wreath he'd been working on, another two crates having arrived over the past few days, he waited a couple of beats before he decided to speak again. 

'Five messaged to see how you went,' he said, maintaining a casual air. 'So did Klaus.' 

She knew who he was referring to. Diego had caught her eyeballing him, the strange, raggedy man who picked Five up after his shifts during the middle of the week. It didn't seem like Klaus drove anywhere, and from what Diego had gathered, the two caught the train together. It did fill him with a sense of relief, to know Five was being escorted home safely. 

'Who?' 

'You know. Five's... guardian, I guess? In lieu of his mother?' 

Something about the way Eudora was focusing on him had Diego squirming a little where he stood. His foot scratched down the back of his ankle again, his eyes locked on his handiwork as he slid the knife across the stems, trimming them down and slicing the leaves off so he could wind them all together. His fingers moved quickly, twisting and weaving everything around and around. Sunflowers and ivy were knotted together, creating an unusual display. It didn't seem to matter how many sunflowers he sold; a fresh crate would be back in his warehouse the following morning. 

'Ahh.' Eudora nodded and leant back a little on the stool. 'The guy you've been having lunch with.' 

Diego froze. The switchblade was balanced between his fingers, poised and ready to cut through the sunflower. His eyes locked on his handiwork as he felt a rush of heat to his cheeks. With a sharp cough, more an effort to loosen his tongue and open his throat up than anything, Diego forced himself to put the knife down and slid the stem of the flower into the base of the wreath. 

'I don't know what you're talking about.' 

'Bullshit,' Eudora laughed. 'Five told me he bought you all sandwiches on the weekend.' 

Well, that was it. Five was fired, delegated back to paying full price for his damn flowers and stuck working at Walmart. He was never, _never_ , setting foot back in the store- 

'The sandwich was only for Five. I never even saw a whiff of one.' 

'But you _have_ been having lunch with him?' 

Grabbing another piece of ivy, Diego took a sharp breath in and looked up to meet Eudora's eye. She had turned to focus on the monitor, but he knew she was watching him out of the corner of her eye. As far as Diego knew, she hadn't been dating all that much since they'd broken up, either. Unlike Diego, though, she had a decent excuse: she'd been training for her test. They had been trying to quietly egg the other on, push them towards getting back on the scene, but they'd both had reasons, good and bad, not to. 

'Once. Twice, if you include when I was dragged along by Five. He's a paying customer,' Diego finally said, sniffing as he turned to grab more ribbon from the storeroom. 'That's it.' 

'Sure, Diego!' Eudora called out to him as he disappeared through the door. 

Klaus _was_ a paying customer, though. Diego was doing what he'd do with any client- asking them about what kind of display he wanted, trying to get a feel for what sort of style he'd like, and figuring out a scope of what he need. Sure, going out for a coffee was perhaps a little unconventional, but Klaus was an unconventional person. 

Furthermore, he was the closest thing to a guardian of Five's that Diego had met. It didn't seem like his mother was all that attentive, and Diego wanted to make sure somebody gave a damn about him. 

Returning to the shop floor, a wheel of gold ribbon in hand, Diego stepped back in front of the wreath and went about threading it around. He could feel Eudora's eyes boring down on him, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Gritting his jaw, Diego did his damnedest to ignore it. 

'A customer, huh?' Eudora asked, emphasising the _T_ just a little too sharply. 

'Mm-hmm.' 

'You, uh... spending a lot of time, scoping him out?' 

'He's not my type, Eudora,' Diego snapped, setting the ribbon down. 'He's... he's flighty, and _weird_ , and it's _exhausting_ being around him.' 

Eudora was silent for all of two breaths. Then, with a loud snort, she shook her head and went back to the computer. 

'Sure, Sunny Dee. Whatever you say.' 

Klaus was essentially the antithesis of what Diego liked. He was loud and erratic and Diego always felt like the breath had been pulled from him whenever Klaus breezed out of the room. He was dizzying and his clothes were utterly ridiculous and Diego never, _never_ , knew what to say around him. He liked stability and his steady, calming job, and the rhythm of his own pace. If he needed to let off steam, he went to the gym and sparred for a good hour or two. He didn't need... whatever it was that Klaus was. 

As he dragged the edge of the blade of scissors over the ribbon, Eudora made a cooing noise. Lifting his eyes, the ribbon springing into a tight coil, he looked over at her phone as she held it up for him to see. 

'Aw, Five told his pretend-girlfriend about me and she wished me luck.' 

'He's such a weird kid,' Diego muttered, even as he read the sweet message. 

Setting the scissors down, he reached into the front pocket of the apron, all a little absently. As Eudora tapped a reply to Five, he carefully unlocked his phone. There, waiting for him, was Klaus' text message. His fingers hovered over the screen, before he hurriedly type out a reply. 

_She did well :-)_

The emoji felt a little off, but he had no idea how to read or respond to the slue that Klaus had sent him. He waited a beat, before sending off another. 

_Did you want to stop by next week for your arrangement? Wednesday or Thursday suit?_

There. Klaus was still a customer, first and foremost. Sure, he was Five's neighbour, and yeah, Diego might be friendly towards him, but he strove to be friendly with all his repeat customers. It was good customer service, after all. 

Almost instantly, he received a reply. Eager and enthusiastic as always. 

_sure!!! wed? thurs? Lunch??_

Lunch didn't mean anything. It was just a convenient time. They didn't need to rush. Better yet, he could claim it as a work expenditure on his tax forms. _See_ , he wanted to tell Eudora, _it came back to work._

Glancing up, glad to see Eudora busy on the computer, he tried for a casual attitude. 

'Can you stay back a little Thursday afternoon?' he asked, hoping the upward inflection wasn't calling him out. 'Just an hour or two.' 

Eudora was quiet a beat as she checked her calendar. When she gave her confirmation, Diego did the same to Klaus, a quick ' _sure :-) thursday is good'_ , before he pocketed his phone and returned to the wreath. Try as he might, he couldn't hide the twitch of his lip or the way his foot scratched over the back of his ankle again. None of it meant anything, and it didn't have to mean anything. He could just enjoy the projects he and Klaus were working on together. 

'He's an artist, you know. Klaus,' he said, still trying (and likely failing) to maintain that casual air. 

Eudora let her hands rest upon the keyboard. She turned her head slowly, an unreadable expression on her face. Even Diego felt compelled to lower his tools to watch her. 

'Out of all the unsurprising sentences you have ever said to me,' she said, her tone steady, 'that one is somewhere in the middle. It's between, “I shouldn't ever agree to fight Luther again” and “I'm going to fight Luther again”.' 

With a scoff, Diego picked up one of the sunflowers. Pulling the head off the stem, he tossed it at her. She laughed as it hit her in the temple, several bright yellow petals falling off as it landed in her lap. She returned the gesture by picking it up and hauling it back at him, where it exploded against his shoulder in an array of yellow glory and a puff of pollen. Perhaps it wasn't the most professional of scenes, but it certainly got them both off the topic of certain customers and Diego's unwitting intentions.


	13. [delivery receipt ii]

_Delivery date: 20191017_

_Pickup time: 1:30PM_

_Customer name: Klaus F._

_Arrangement style: SUNF-032_

_-PEACH062 additional_

_PAID IN FULL_

_Employee discount applied_

*

Thank you for your purchase. We hope it meets your expectations. 

If you have any queries, please quote invoice number [ **1989-KF-4** ]. 

We looked forward to seeing you again soon! 

*

_For happiness one needs security, but joy can spring like a flower even from the cliffs of despair._

_\- Anne Morrow Lindbergh_


	14. lilac

A nasty bruise had formed overnight, right on Diego's cheekbone. It was a swollen, speckled black-and-blue. Diego had been icing it throughout the night and morning, but all that had happened was the swelling had gone down and the bruise had darkened in colour. He supposed it could be worse. A bruise could at least be partly covered in make up- something that would have been handy, if Diego knew the first thing about applying it. 

It had been his fault, anyway. Well, partly. His and Luther's. They had been training at the gym the night before, and Luther had been talking about the woman he was trying to work up the nerve to ask out. It always tickled Diego, that a guy as big and attractive as he was was even worse around women than Diego. At least Diego had had a few good relationships. Luther, he was pretty sure, had been raised in a monastery. 

They'd been alternating on the focus mitts, and Diego had grown distracted by someone dropping a heavy bag on the ground. Before he'd known it, he'd lowered one and Luther had slipped and his glove wound up kissing his cheek. It was a light punch (Diego having been on the receiving end of quite a few of Luther's heavy smacks), but it had been forceful enough to send him falling A over T. Luther's apologies had been muddied against the roar of blood in Diego's ears as the edges of his vision went black and he finally roused himself back to his feet. 

Since then, a welt had risen and gone down on his cheek. He'd had more than a few worried looks by customers, and some very sweet older woman made a remark about the 'state of the suburbs these days'. Eudora had given him a tube of arnica cream, though Diego didn't believe it worked. Even Five had offered to stop by a pharmacy and get him some haemorrhoid cream, which Diego _really_ didn't need him asking about. 

Worst of all, Diego was meant to be meeting Klaus up in the park that afternoon. It was a mild, early winter day, which meant the temperature was hovering in the mid-fifties. Diego was tempted to ask if they could skip the park and just hide out in a cafe again, but Klaus couldn't be swayed. There was something about the brisk air and the frost nipping at his heels. Diego had just grunted on the phone and kept poking the bruise at the time. 

Eudora arrived, took one look at his cheek, and gave a sigh and shake of her head. After rubbing the arnica cream into his cheek, Diego made his excuses and scurried off with the floral arrangement in a deep tin. Klaus had asked for something to unusual to house the sunflowers, peach blossoms and holly. Although he hadn't been asked to do it, Diego had added a few sprigs of white clover and lemon leaves. It rounded the centrepiece out, making it bright and colourful for the dull day. 

Try as he might to escape without being seen, Eudora noticed. Of course she did. The two of them couldn't do anything in close proximity without the other seeing. He had one foot out the door, a satchel on his shoulder and a cheesecloth over the arrangement to stop the cold from seeping in, wrapped around the handles of the bucket, when she happened to walk out from the back room. Their eyes met, she looked down at what he was holding, and tilted her head to the side. 

'The cafe has a half-price special on soup from noon to one,' he blurted out without any idea of where it came from. 

'It's one-thirty.' 

'They might have some left, though.' 

Eudora's eyes narrowed and she shook her head. 'Tell him I said hi.' 

It was the closest he'd get without an inquisition. Scurrying out, Diego turned his collar up to keep the cold wind out and started off. 

The park was only a ten minute walk from the store. He'd have driven, but parking was a headache at the best of times, and he'd have to fight the maze of one-way roads and no right turns. Despite the bite in the air, though, there was no rain nor snow, and he found himself warming up the further and faster he walked. He even felt like he was in a good mood by the time he arrived at the small park, an unusual feat for his curmudgeonly winter attitude. 

Klaus was wrapped up in something that might have once had been a blanket but had been refashioned as a jacket. A picnic rug had been draped over a bench that was positioned under a tree, a pair of thermoses set up beside him. Sitting cross-legged on the bench, he had a book in his lap and was bent over as he read it. Diego slowed down and took a moment to just look at him. 

One hand was running up and down a necklace he was wearing, his hand wrapped around what might have been a charm. He'd been half expecting a canvas and easel to be erected somewhere, but none was to be seen. This meant that either Klaus was a spectacularly peculiar individual (which was still very likely), or he'd chosen this spot specifically because it was close to Diego (also, maybe, hopefully, true). 

As he neared, Klaus took his time looking up. His head lifted, inch by inch, his eyelashes batting over his cheeks as he cleared his eyes. The moment he registered Diego, he smiled slowly. The sight of it had Diego stumbling a little, which he attempted to mask by holding up the centrepiece, still covered by the cheesecloth. Klaus didn't look away, though. He still smiled, tucking his necklace down the front of his shirt as he untangled his legs and stood. The book disappeared somewhere into the blanket-jacket. Diego hoped, wildly, that it was into a pocket and not an interdimensional hole. 

'Hey, sorry if- ' 

'Your face.' 

The briskness of the air had caused the swollen bruise to become numb. It wasn't until Klaus approached him, a hand enclosed in a fingerless glove, that he remembered. Stopping just short of touching him, Klaus tuttered and shook his head. The smile had disappeared a little, replaced with a look of deep concern. 

'What happened?' 

'Oh...' Rolling his eyes, Diego tried to screw up his face, only to find that it actually twinged. 'I got sloppy. It was an accident.' 

' _Diego_.' 

'Luther and I were training. It's nothing. Honest. It could have been a lot worse.' 

Klaus seemed unconvinced. Even so, he shook his head and gestured for Diego to follow him back to the bench. He sat, cleared a spot beside him for Diego to sit down, and offered him one of the thermoses. As the lid was twisted off, the rich smell of coffee came wafting out. He swore it had been sprinkled with nutmeg and cinnamon. 

'Have you been waiting long?' he asked as he sat down beside Klaus. 

It felt natural to sit there. He could have sat on the other side of the bench, the table between them, but he found he hadn't even considered it. Perhaps it was the chill in the air, chasing him to seek comfort and warmth. He set the satchel down beside him and loosened the buckles that kept it closed. 

'No,' came the response with a smile. 

Reaching into his satchel, Diego pulled out several of the sandwiches he had brought. Salami and cheese, the same he made for himself and Eudora for lunch. He'd been halfway through making them, before realising he had utterly no idea what sort of food Klaus actually ate. He managed a few egg salad sandwiches, and finally a few plain salad varieties in case Klaus was vegan. There were so many dietary requirements these days, and Diego only now realised that it was possible Klaus could be celiac. 

It seemed like he shouldn't have worried. As he pulled them out, Klaus grabbed one, peeled the plastic off and took a hungry bite without even checking to see what was in it. As he chewed, nodding happily with the salami contents, he grabbed the second thermos. A pair of plastic cups were pulled from somewhere and Diego found himself with a cup of thick, creamy tomato soup thrust into his hand. 

'I made some changes to your arrangement,' Diego finally said, once he'd swallowed his mouthful of coffee. 'I hope that's okay.' 

Klaus nodded as Diego pulled the cheesecloth off the arrangement. The flowers had been slightly knocked about in the walk over, and Diego went about fussing with them. The lush, green leaves were pushed back to frame the flowers, the clover and peach blossoms entwined. None of the sunflowers had lost their petals, thankfully, and even the holly sat at the front, pristine and neat. 

Looking up, Diego watched as the bright green eyes locked onto the arrangement. Half a sandwich was stuck between Klaus' teeth as he took hold of the bucket. He held it carefully, as though it were something delicate and fragile. Not an entirely inaccurate analysis, for sure, but it wasn't a magnificent sculpture or some ceramic art piece. But Klaus turned it one way and then the other, only setting it down to pull the sandwich from his teeth so it didn't drop everywhere. 

'Jesus, this is perfect.' 

'Is it?' Diego asked, sceptical. 'It's really not- ' 

'It _is_ ,' Klaus insisted. 'Don't talk down about yourself that way. Your work is gorgeous, Diego. It's living art.' 

Diego flinched, just a little bit. He'd never been good with receiving compliments, especially forceful ones. His father had been hard and critical, and Diego knew he'd always been just a little bit of a disappointment. He'd been too soft in many ways and too harsh in others. He'd never quite met his father's expectations, which were impossibly loose and free-form in some ways, and strictly defined and bordered in others. No matter what path he took in life, Diego knew he'd never meet it. 

His mother had tried as best as she could, even when she'd been under his father's thumb. When his dreams of being a police officer had been dashed, she had quietly built up the flame of his dreams about becoming a florist. His father's death in that way had almost been a blessing. A cruel thought, for sure, but he'd have never attempted it while the old man was alive. Attending school to become a florist as a man in his mid-twenties had been an insane idea, and one he was still a little embarrassed by, but it had turned out well. His mother told him again and again how proud she was of him, and each time Diego would blush and fuss and tell her to sit down while he fixed them tea. 

And now, hearing this impossibly beautiful and wildly erratic man compliment him like that had Diego turning red. His tongue grew thick and heavy, his throat locked up, and he found himself shoving an egg salad sandwich in his mouth just so he didn't have to talk. 

'I think your work is beautiful. It's like... have you ever read anything about Buddhism?' 

Diego paused. He was struggling to swallow his sandwich. He turned the question over, and then shook his head. He had a feeling he wasn't going to know anything about what Klaus had to say. 

'One of the core beliefs of Buddhism is that life is in constant transition. Especially material goods. They do this sand artwork- mandalas, yeah, you've heard of them?- and then they collect it, respectfully wrap it up, and transport it to, like, a river or stream or ocean or somewhere with moving water. And then it's released. That's what your work is like. You make this beautiful sculpture, and eventually it will fall apart, but that's part of it. That's... that's life.' 

Listening to him, quiet and thoughtful, Diego wasn't sure what to make of it all. Despite the way he dressed, despite the way he acted, there was an eloquence to Klaus. His use of language continuously surprised him. He'd been well educated, Diego had picked that much up. And even now, as he sipped the spiced coffee and dunked one end of his sandwich into the tomato soup and mused about philosophical ideals, Diego was struck once more by him. 

Taking a breath, he sipped his soup and let it warm him. By the time he swallowed, it felt comfortable enough to speak. 

'It's a beautiful way of putting it.' 

'It is, isn't it?' 

'Is that how you view your art? Your painting?' 

Klaus laughed. He shook his head, rolling his eyes a little as he did. 

'Oh... oh no,' he said, taking another bite of his sandwich. 'Oil on canvas, baby. Oil on canvas.' 

As Klaus ate his sandwich, Diego looked back at the arrangement he had made. He was admittedly a little worried about how they'd handle the chill, but they didn't appear to be wilting. Running his tongue over his teeth, searching for stuck food, he considered it for a moment. He didn't know much about art, beyond the elective classes he had done in high school. Sometimes he had to do some sketching for arrangements, and he continuously struggled. Colour theory was easy, but applying it to paper was hard. 

'Didn't van Gogh paint sunflowers?' 

'Mm-hmm.' Klaus nodded as he finished his sandwich and balled up the plastic wrap. 'Late eighteen-eighties. Aren't they beautiful? They're such happy flowers.' 

His head was tilted to the side, his fingers brushing down the soft petals of the sunflower. Plucking out one of the peach blossoms, Klaus twirled it around. The pink petals went one way and then the other, before he turned to Diego and let it kiss the bruise on his cheek. 

'So did Luther _really_ hit you, or were you defending some fair maiden's honour in battle?' 

Laughing, Diego playfully leant back and shook his head. 

'It _was_ an accident,' he insisted. 'Though I had been joking about how he's incapable of asking a woman out, so it might have been well deserved.' 

Klaus' bright eyes widened as he gaped at Diego. The exaggerated gesture was only maximised by the breadcrumbs that littered his moustache. With a snicker, Diego, brushed his hands over his shirt and motioned him closer. Without thinking much about it, he took the peach blossom from him and tucked it behind his ear. Klaus sat still, his eyes watching Diego's hands as he threaded it through several tight curls. 

'You're a grub.' 

'I've been called worse,' Klaus drawled as Diego sat back. He finally wiped his mouth with the back of a glove, before he pulled both off and cracked his knuckles. 

There it was again. A flash of ink, different to the nail polish that he wore, chipped and black but only on his nails. At first, Diego had thought that perhaps it had been stubborn paint splatters, not quite successfully removed in time before it dried. 

'Can... can I...?' 

He waved his palms towards Klaus. Without hesitation, Klaus held them out, palms up for him to see. Twin tattoos covered his hands, _HELLO_ and _GOODBYE_ ,carefully done with a surprising lack of bleed through. As much as Diego wanted to tell himself that they had to have been done with permanent marker, there was enough age and wear in parts of them to prove they weren't. 

His own fingers curled into his palms. He had a rush to touch them, to run his thumb across the sharp lines, the narrow curve of the _O_ s. Sinking his teeth into his lower lip, Diego pushed his feet into the ground and knees together as though that would help. The pads of Klaus' fingers were clean, no sign of paint or ink beyond the tattoos that coloured his palms. His fingers looked soft, not at all like the rough, callused texture of Diego's own. Boxing and floristry had left his hands a little battered over time. 

'Did those hurt?' he finally asked. 

Diego wasn't a stranger to the pointy end of a tattoo gun. He had a smattering of his own ink across his torso, chest and down his arms. His preferred attire at the store kept them covered, except for the peak of summer when he'd roll them up and let the edge of the sugar skull on the underside of his forearm peak out. Hell, he'd even been skewered with a piercing needle more than once. The palms were such a sensitive spot, though. Diego had been squirming when he had his ribcage done. He couldn't imagine having his palms done. 

Turning the question over, Klaus curled his fingers into his hands in a mimicry of Diego's gesture. His nails scratched over the tattoos, faint white lines appearing in his skin that quickly faded away. As though of their own volition, Diego watched as his fingers lifted and ever so softly ran across the disappearing lines. As he'd expected, Klaus' hands were soft to touch, and somehow warm despite the cool air. 

'I guess. It was a long time ago,' he admitted. 'To be honest, I don't even really remember it happening.' 

Although that was a little peculiar, Diego didn't question it. He'd had the eagle and skull both done over a couple of sessions, and the touch-ups had all been blended into one. Besides, his eyes were locked on what his fingers were doing, tracing each letter on each palm one at a time. 

As he reached the end of the _E_ in _GOODBYE_ , Klaus pulled his hand away. Watching it, he held his breath as it was lifted to his cheek. Klaus' thumb swept under his eye, tracing the sensitive, dark bruise. He kept his touch light, soft; it didn't even hurt, despite Diego bracing himself for it. He ran his thumb across Diego's cheekbone, down to the smattering of freckles that only came out when he'd been in the sun too long, and towards the scar that ran from his temple and through his hairline. 

The scratch of nails in his hair had a shiver running down Diego's spine. From the base of his neck, through each vertebrae, and down to the deep curve in his back. He could blame it on the cold, if asked, if he pushed himself. It had nothing to do with the way his head was leaning into Klaus' palm, nor the smell of patchouli and sandalwood that seemed to cling to his skin. If he turned his head a little and let his nose brush against the soft skin of Klaus' inner wrist, then it was only because he was trying to place the scent. He wasn't trying to coax Klaus to keep doing it, not at all. 

Another shiver ran down his spine, just as Klaus' nails dragged across his scalp, his fingers curling into the short hair. The sides had been shaved once, but had started to grow out. He knew he needed to get it trimmed, but he was a little grateful he hadn't now. Not if he was rewarded like this. 

His eyes had fluttered shut. Klaus' nails had dragged down the side of his head, capturing behind his ear. With a soft breath, Diego rocked a little closer. Back and forth, swaying a little as he mentally cursed himself for having the egg sandwich, for indulging in the coffee. He wasn't meant to know, he wasn't meant to be doing this, Klaus was a _client_ , he was the closest thing Five likely had to a paternal figure, and yet he was finding himself being reeled in. But somehow, crazily, insanely, he found himself folding his hand around Klaus' other hand and letting it drop to his knee. 

The hand by his ear fell to his shoulder, then slid around to the back of his neck. For half a moment, his eyes opened just enough to peer through his lashes. Klaus, so close, his own eyes shut as he leant closer. The tips of their noses touching, and Diego could feel his pulse in his temples, a rush of heat swelling through him as he closed the gap. 

Tentative. Nervous. Uncertain, a little shy. And then nails in the back of his neck, Klaus' hand pushing into his thigh as he pulled Diego in closer. Diego parted his lips and gave a soft, desperate breath against Klaus' mouth as he returned in kind, barely realising how much he needed it until Klaus had opened the door to a world of possibilities. In return, Klaus gave a small, keening noise, high pitched and from the back of his throat. 

Then, just as quickly, Klaus was pushing him away. He fell back a little, startled by the sudden gap between the two of them. Confused, he batted his eyes open to find Klaus hunched over, a hand over his mouth, the other clutching the front of his shirt. 

'I... I can't, I... ' 

'I'm sorry,' Diego blurted out. 'I... shit, I'm... I'm... you're Five's dad.' 

'I'm not his dad. I'm just... I worry about him a lot. I keep an eye on him.' 

'You're basically Five's guardian and I'm his boss.' 

'Right.' 

Diego wanted to kiss him again. _God_ , he wanted to kiss him again. 

Keeping his eyes down on the bench between them, Diego sank back a little. Gritting his teeth, he dared to lift his eyes, just a hair. Klaus was still clutching the front of his shirt, his jaw set tight as he did much the same as Diego in trying to avoid his gaze. Breathing sharply though his nose, Diego turned to face the bench again and the remains of their forgotten lunch. 

'It... I'm sorry,' he finally said, hunching a little. 'I... I didn't mean for it to happen. It was inappropriate.' 

'It wasn't inappropriate,' Klaus muttered. 'It's complicated.' 

Licking his lips, still able to taste Klaus on them, Diego pulled the plastic wrap back over his half-eaten sandwich and shoved it aside. He'd suddenly lost his appetite for it. 

His hands were shaking, his heart pounding. With every breath he could still feel Klaus. The nails in his hair, the palm on his cheek, the hand on his thigh pressing down as he'd leant ever closer. No matter how much he wanted it, though, it was still incredibly inappropriate. Maybe not for the reasons he'd given, but for some reason; a reason that was important enough for Klaus to have pulled away like that. 

Swallowing hard, forcing himself to calm down, Diego grabbed his satchel. As though in a daze, he shovelled two of the sandwiches inside of it and pushed himself up. 

'I, um. I need to get b... ba... I need to get ba... ' _Fuck_. 'Eudora's waiting. I'll see you soon.' 

If he escaped quickly enough, perhaps he could avoid an unpleasant conversation with Klaus. However, Diego only took two steps before he was stopped. He heard the scuffle of Klaus' boots, his foot knocking on the seat as he stood. 

'If I emailed you some colour swatches, would you be able to match them?' 

With a cough, more an effort to loosen his vocal cords than to actually clear his throat, Diego turned around. He took a breath and tapped his tongue on the roof of his mouth. Klaus' cheeks were rosy, a blush sweeping over them and disappearing down the neck of his shirt. He wondered how far it went. 

'Within reason,' he said, nodding a little. 'Colours can appear different on a computer screen. Like how paint dries, a little. I guess.' 

'But... you could. Reasonably?' 

Diego nodded. 

Klaus swallowed hard, looking almost as nervous and flustered as Diego felt. With a soft exhale, Klaus gave a lopsided smile, rubbing his hands over upper arms (soft hands, so gentle and sweet and _God_ , Diego knew he was in trouble) and sat back down. He muttered something about having the email to Diego by the end of the following day, and Diego gave a murmur of acknowledgement before turning and heading back up the street. 


	15. queen anne's lace

Diego could pretend it hadn't happened. There was no reason for him to worry about it. Both he and Klaus seemed to have mutually agreed that it shouldn't have happened, and, without saying anything at all, had formed a pact of silence on it. They didn't need to discuss it and nobody needed to know. Sure, Eudora had given him a funny look when he'd arrived back at the store, and yeah, Five had asked how his lunch with Klaus had gone, but it didn't mean anything. Eudora could think what she wanted, and Five seemed to have his finger on the pulse when it came to everything. 

As promised, the email with the colour swatches arrived in his inbox the following afternoon. Bright yellows, deep purples, navy blues and vivid greens. They seemed to be paint swatches. It would take Diego some time to go through his stockists to find the best flowers to match them. Orchids and ferns and, as always, the constant stream of sunflowers would cover most of them, but Diego wanted to give Klaus a few different options to work from. The colouring almost matched the bruise on his face as it healed, the colours melting into one another until it finally disappeared. The tenderness, too, was gone by the end of the week. 

Eudora received word that she had proceeded further in her application. Cheers and high-fives were celebrated in the store. Even Five gave her a hug, a little stiff and strangely executed, as though he wasn't sure what the correct procedure was when giving a hug. But Eudora ruffled his hair, and he huffed and went about smoothing it out with a grin on his face. 

The holiday season was approaching. Thanksgiving and Christmas orders were beginning to come in, winter formals and work holiday functions. Despite her training take priority, Eudora still made an effort to come in each morning whenever possible. In turn, Five came in each afternoon. Diego tried to insist he didn't need to, that he wanted him to focus on his homework, but he would simply shake his head and tie on the navy apron that went down to his knees. He'd go about, sweeping the floors or neatening up the shelves. If none of that could feasibly be done, he'd flop down behind the computer and go about updating their social media accounts. Diego had been staggered to see their followers had doubled. 

Mostly, though, Five didn't seem his usually amenable self. 

It took several days for the truth to come out, in half-sentences and short syllables. 

'Mom's not home,' he said one afternoon. Then, half an hour later when he seemed to think Diego may have forgotten all about that piece of information, 'Klaus has been working.' 

Diego let those little morsels of Five's private life sit with him as he served customers and wrapped up arrangements that would be delivered the following morning. Five was doing stocktake, hauling boxes of sunflowers upstairs where they had begun to encroach on Diego's own personal living space. He hated it, but they had run out of room downstairs in the store. 

As the store grew quiet and evening begun to close in, Diego prepared them both a cup of coffee. The boy drank it like it was going out of stock. Diego worried a little about it stunting his growth, thanks to a chiding his own mother had given him when he was Five's age, but he tried to not say anything about it. 

Five sat atop the counter, his legs dangling over the edge. Diego was sure he did it just to piss him off. He tried to not let it get to him right then. 

'Where's Klaus?' 

Five just shrugged, his hands wrapped around the mug. 'At work. He's been busy with his agent.' 

Agent. Right, Klaus had said he was an artist. Artists had agents. 

That didn't help Diego any, though. It wasn't really what he wanted to know, anyway. 

'Where's your mom? What does she do?' he asked carefully. 

With a faint narrowing of his eyes, Five lowered his mug and studied Diego from where he stood, leaning against the counter. Diego had never been good at the subtle, casual type of questioning. It was another reason he wouldn't have made a very good police officer. 

'She travels for work. She's out a lot. And _no_ , my father isn't on the scene.' 

There was a twitch in Five's eye. Staring down at his mug, Diego realised he'd begun to touch upon a delicate nerve. Five grit his jaw together in a way that reminded Diego just a little of Klaus. With a slow breath, he took a couple of steps, cleared some space off the counter, and heaved himself up to join Five in sitting upon it. There wasn't much space for a grown man, but he still did his best to fit. 

'I don't know exactly what she does,' Five said quietly once Diego had settled. 'Human resources, I think. People management. She had a bunch of promotions and change in titles last year, when they reshaped the company. Not she's not home very often.' 

Diego's heart twisted in his chest. Pressing his hand against his sternum, he wished he knew what to say, what to do. His own mother had always been so much better at this. She'd reach out, give him a hug- something Diego couldn't just do. 

'And Klaus has been having a lot of meetings with his agent and this gallery place, so he's been out all week. And he's got work, I _know_ that. But Delores has her model UN _thing_ this week, y'know, against other schools? So she hasn't been able to chat all week, and I _miss_ her, and that sounds so stupid, I hate it. And I hate all the kids at school, they're all idiots.' 

A thin, distressed tone began to melt into Five's voice. The too adult, too serious tone that he so often affected had disappeared, and he sounded like the young teen he was. There was a catch in his voice as he squeezed his eyes shut, his teeth grit as he bent over, his shoulders hunching. 

'I just... I don't think my mom likes me very much,' Five finally said. 'And that's fine. I don't like her much, either. I don't think anyone at school does. But... I just wish sometimes I could have lived with my dad instead.' 

'Hey- ' 

Sliding off the counter, Diego set his coffee down. He took two steps towards Five, hesitated a moment, before finally clasping his hands around his small, jutting shoulders. A hot, angry look had filled Five's face as his lips twisted into a quivering moue, his eyes welling with tears that he tried to blink back as he refused to look at Diego. 

'I like you plenty,' he said firmly. 'You're the best fourteen-year-old I know.' 

'I'd be worried if you know many fourteen-year-olds, Mister Diego,' Five drawled, though he did appear to be forcing a smile from his face. 

Diego just rolled his eyes and went on. 

'Klaus adores you, too. He wouldn't keep calling you his son if he didn't think of you as one. And Eudora thinks the sun shines out of you. I bet you could stab someone in front of her, and she'd think you were still the best.' 

'D'you think she'd let me off with a warning when she's a cop?' 

'Probably,' Diego said with a nod, which made Five laugh wetly. 'And hey, I haven't met Delores, but I think she must like you, too. She sounds like a really special girl.' 

'She is,' Five agreed quietly. He sniffed, wiped his face, and waved at Diego to let go of him. 'Don't tell anyone I cried in front of you.' 

Suppressing a smile of his own, Diego leant to the side. Reaching over the counter, he found the box of tissues that were kept there and held the box up to Five. He grabbed a couple and wiped at his face, his cheeks and nose a bright, blotchy red. Leaning against the counter, his elbows propped up, Diego idly scratched his ankle with his foot. 

'My dad was tough on me. He wasn't ever around much, like your mom, but when he was, I couldn't ever do anything right.' 

'Was he an asshole?' 

That was putting it mildly. The corner of Diego's mouth twitched as he met Five's eyes. He wasn't about to confirm it. 

'I tried to live up to what he wanted,' he finally said. 'And it was never going to happen. And I knew that. But I tried and I tried, and I was never really happy. Eventually I had to learn that the most important person to make happy was myself.' 

'What happened?' 

Diego smacked his hands on the counter in a syncopated rhythm. With a shrug, he scratched the side of his head, feeling the thin scar there. It hadn't been caused by a rose thorn, no matter what several sweet women had suggested over the years. 

'I opened the store. I sell flowers now. That's what you need to get out of this. I did something just for myself. Something that actually makes me happy.' 

Although the answer definitely didn't seem to be what Five had wanted, he seemed to accept it. He sniffed again, dabbing his nose, and slid off the counter top. 

'How do you get home, then?' Diego finally asked. He'd never actually found out. 

'I catch the train. Get off at Central, and Klaus meets me. We walk home together.' 

'Is that safe?' 

As fall became winter, the skies had equally become darker earlier. It was still only late afternoon, but the sun had dipped towards the horizon and the sky had become a dark haze. Although he took an attitude that suggested otherwise, Five was still a boy, with knee-high socks and polished shoes. 

Even now he shrugged, dismissing the query. 

'I can drive you. I don't mind.' 

Five threw him a dubious look. But, even so, Diego could see him turning it over. Clearing his throat, he collected both their mugs and turned. 

'Yeah. If you don't mind. That would... I'd appreciate it. I'll text Klaus to let him know.' 

As Five took the mugs to the small kitchenette to clean them off, Diego went about closing the store. Lights off, door locked, blinds drawn, alarm on. They could leave out the back door. He hated driving through this part of the city at the best of times, but now that he knew Five was wandering the subway on his own, Diego wanted to put a nip in that. At least until Klaus was available to walk him home again. 

His car smelt of flowers and soil. Five seemed uncharacteristically bemused by that. Courier slips and packaging receipts littered the floor of the front seat, with towels and washing baskets that Diego kept stowed in the backseat to keep everything safe. There were stockist albums laying about, things Diego had grabbed but had never bothered to bring back inside. 

'I was thinking,' he said casually as Five flicked through one between giving him directions. 'You said Delores likes purple right?' 

'Yeah.' 

As they pulled to a traffic light, Diego reached over to the album on Five's lap. Flicking through, he pulled up to a page that showed a variety of croci. Bright purple petals were fanned by deep green foliage, their orange-yellow stamen cutting through the petals. 

'Winter's not a great time for purple flowers, but these are beautiful. Baby's breath is a bit overdone, but I might be able to source some lilac or sweet pea to add to a bouquet. Sweet pea in pink and white might be nice.' 

He could feel Five's gaze upon him as he started driving again. Diego refused to look. 

'Otherwise, if you think that's all a bit delicate, we could go with irises. It'll be hard to get this time of year, but I do know one guy that manages to grow them most of the year. He might have some, but I'd have to get in now to make it for Christmas.' 

'Christmas?' Five finally asked. 

'Yeah.' Diego finally offered him a quick glance. 'You wanted to get her a bouquet, right? An arrangement? We'll do it for Christmas. I'm not doing roses, though, that is way too overdone. You want your flowers to send a message. She's special, she's unique, she deserves more than a dozen boring red roses.' 

'I thought you said roses gave a statement all on their own. They're romantic.' 

'They do. But roses are easy. Anybody can do roses. But you're not just anybody, and neither is Delores.' 

It was a little weird to be encouraging this peculiar relationship that Five had with a girl who lived in Canada (and who Diego still wasn't entirely convinced was real). But, at the same time, he found himself wanting to encourage Five to hang out with kids his own age. In all the weeks they had known one another, he hadn't heard a peep about anyone from his school. There was never any mention about kids he sat with at lunch, nobody who had been given a name from any of his classes. Sometimes he'd drawl about something that had happened in class, some test or assignment that he'd been given. Even rarer he'd mutter about a teacher, and, only once, he'd dared to speak about 'some asshole' that had been giving him a rough time. 

The only people Five seemed to have any kinship for was Klaus, and, very occasionally, Ben (who Diego had still yet to see). Sure, there was Delores, but she lived in Canada and Five only spoke to her online. A flower shop was no place for a young teen to make friends, and yet he had planted roots (in a manner of speaking) and couldn't be dissuaded. 

Diego supposed there were a dozen other worse things Five could be getting himself into. Hell, he'd run into a couple of them himself when he was Five's age. But he also had an attentive and involved mother to take him by the hand and walk him out of it. Five didn't have that; but, by the grace of God, he'd wound up with a bedraggled artist and a boxer-cum-florist twice his age that wanted to make sure he was safe. 

He pulled up outside a tall complex. It read more _condominium_ than _apartment_. Large windows ran around the building, from what seemed to be floor to ceiling. His eyes remained locked up high, where the sunset had caused an array of deep, purple hues to paint the outside. Diego had grown up in what his classmates had called a 'nice house'. His folks had been well enough off that he hadn't ever had to go without. This, though, had Diego feeling suddenly very small, with his cosy little apartment that sat atop his quaint little flower shop. 

'Can you message me when you get inside?' Diego asked, though he didn't have any doubt that Five would be fine entering his home. 

Five studied him. Then, with a shrug, he tossed the album in the backseat and nodded. 

'Thanks for the ride, Mister Diego,' he said. 'I'll see you tomorrow.' 

'Eat vegetables for dinner!' Diego called out before the door shut in his face. 

Although Five had tried to hide his face, Diego could still see a smile break out on his face. He hurried up to the front door, waving just once as he passed through it, before Diego pulled away from the curb and went back onto the road. 

Some two minutes later, his phone chimed. When he arrived home, he saw a text from Five. 

_Inside safe. does potato count? thx for the ride._

_ps please dont tell eudora about my mom_

Diego tapped his fingers over the phone. He still sat in his car, the vehicle and alleyway dark. He didn't want to move just yet. Then, with a huff, he replied. 

_Potato is ok. No soda._

_Lips sealed._

Sending the message off, he shut his eyes and let his hand rub over his face. Perhaps it had been a bit of a dramatic gesture to offer to create an arrangement for Five's Canadian girlfriend for Christmas, but he certainly didn't regret it. 

As he got out of the car and started up to the back door, his phone buzzed again. It wasn't until he was upstairs that he took a look at it. 

Klaus. 

_Thanks for driving him home – v gracious of u. u r a shining star! Can we catch up next week?_

And then there was the other side of the coin. With a deep, shaky breath, Diego set the phone down on the crate of sunflowers that had taken up residence on his own kitchen table. Taking a deep, unsteady breath through his nose, he hunched over a little and studied the message over and over, before turning the screen off. He didn't want to acknowledge the way his heart skipped a beat, he didn't want to think as to why his hands shivered and muscles tightened. It was easier to busy his hands by running his thumb over the scar that slashed his brow. He could ignore it. If he swallowed hard enough and let his tongue loosen and focused on something else entirely, he could ignore it. 

He just sure as hell didn't want to.


	16. [packing slip iv]

Invoice Number: 3078GA-3 

Date: November 4h 2019 

*

_Graceful Arrangements_

c/o 

Diego Hargreeves 

*

Thank you for your purchase! 

Please check that all items listed below have been received and agree with your order. Please report any discrepancies noted immediately to our customer service centre. 

There are no exchanges for insect damage, nor any exchanges for frost between December 1st and March 1st. 

_We will be closed from December 23 rd and will be reopening on January 2nd. We apologise for any inconvenience._

*

**ITEMS SHIPPED**

_Paeonia_

_-pink_

_-white_

_-blue_

_-yellow (on back order)_

[XXX] 

_Aster amellus_

[XXX] 

_Erica_

_-darleyenesis (on back order)_

  


[XXX] 

_Juliet rose_

[XXX] 

_David Austin Rose_

*

Thank you for your continued support! 


	17. statice

Klaus attempted to call him shortly before midday. Diego had been unable to answer, elbow-deep in a centrepiece for a wake. It was a last minute order, the original florist having fallen through (much to Diego's tight-lipped disgust; he'd sooner drop a wedding than a funeral). The call went to voicemail, and when Diego finally got to his phone, the arrangement safely on its way to the funeral home, he had a bunch of other text messages from Klaus professing how bored he was. With only a moment's hesitation, he called. 

After the initial apologies from Diego when Klaus answered, and Klaus drawling about how Ben was a good-for-nothing and the dogs weren't even that cute to be seen walking, the question Diego had been waiting for was turned towards him. The centrepiece had been waiting for Klaus for a day, sitting in the cool room surrounded by crates of sunflowers. He'd swung back and forth between calling Klaus, before chickening out and sending him a semi-formal email that it was ready to be picked up. 

He agreed to meet Klaus at Central Station, recalling what Five had said. Sure, he could have driven (and it likely would have made more sense to do so), but Diego had a feeling he was going to need a chance to think and catch his breath before he arrived at the doorstep of his building. Thankfully Eudora was working the full day, and he was able to leave early, dodging the questions about where he was going with a tall vase of sunflowers and buttercups. It had been finished off with a sprinkling of white violets and fern leaves. Diego felt more than a little ridiculous, sitting on the train with such a display, but he'd learnt to block out the stares and whispered jokes. 

The train ride wasn't as quick as he'd expected it to be. He count back the stops- five, four, three- and watched as the crowd dispersed. It was peculiar, to think of both Five and Klaus taking this very train, just to come to the store, to see _him_. There had to be closer florists, closer stores with a better selection. And yet, for some reason that was beyond him, he'd been the one selected. 

Holding the vase close, he stepped off the train to the bustling underground station. Careful to avoid being knocked into, he stepped about, searching everywhere for Klaus. He needn't have worried. There was a sharp jab in his shoulder, and as he spun around to stop whatever asshole was hoping to pocket his wallet or rustle him up for daring to carry an elaborate bouquet, he found himself face-to-face with Klaus. 

'Hey! Hi- ' 

_Fuck_ , he was close. Only a bare few inches from him. Taking a deep breath in, the commuters knocking them about from every direction, Diego swallowed hard. It was inevitable that he found himself taking a half-step closer, just to avoid being bowled over. Klaus was dressed in a dizzying array of colours, with a pair of leather pants that may have very well come from the women's section of a store. 

'Is it always this busy?' Diego asked over the noise. 

'Not on Sundays. Come.' 

He could do this. They could do this. See, it was easy and simple, Klaus hadn't even mentioned the kiss once, and they had been in each other's company for a whole thirty seconds. Maybe he'd forgotten it. 

No, that was ridiculous. Diego certainly hadn't forgotten it. It had been all he could think about the afternoon it had happened, and then any time he'd received an email or text message from Klaus, and more than once during the week he'd woken up in his sleep, pressed into the mattress and hating himself for even _dreaming_ about it, and- 

'Are these for me?' Klaus asked as he began to lead Diego up the stairs and towards the exit. 

He had to keep his mind away from where it had been all week. He and Klaus had both agreed that it had been inappropriate, and Diego knew that the places his mind had been wandering were even more inappropriate. 

'I couldn't get any like the blue you sent me, but if you really need some, I can have them by next month.' 

Klaus smiled and shook his head. There it was, that funny look in his face he got sometimes, as though something amusing had popped into his head and he wasn't letting Diego in on it. Instead of feeling like he was the butt of an unsaid joke, though, Diego felt like he was in on a secret. He just wished he knew what it was. He adjusted his grip on the vase and turned it so Klaus could see them better. 

'No, that's fine. I like the white flowers.' 

'They're violets.' 

'I thought violets were... well, violet.' 

With a gentle laugh, Diego nodded and shrugged. He began to explain the different colours of violets, the different meanings of flowers. Klaus studied him, his eyes wide and bright. The vivid shade of green kept throwing Diego. He'd never seen eyes like his, so clear and deep and rich in hue. Every time Diego met them, his breath would catch in his throat and his heart would skip a beat. 

By the time they reached the Klaus' building, he'd covered more from his history and theory of floriography classes than he'd thought of in a long time. Klaus kept asking and prying for more information, and Diego found himself laughing, scratching his head and trying to remember all he could. It had been fascinating at the time, but the applications had been limited. Standing outside the building now, he wished he knew more. 

In the light of day, Diego realised he knew this condominium well, and not just from dropping Five off that one time. He would organise deliveries to it frequently, never quite daring to cross the threshold into the lobby. It was a daunting building, tall and sleek. The walls were tinted glass, and at night over the holiday season and during festivals, they'd sometimes be lit up in an array of colours. Following Klaus to the door, Diego felt a cold sweat break out at the back of his neck, a wave of anxiety sweeping over him as he quickly wondered if he should have showered before they left. 

Words were trapped in his throat, his stream about floriography coming to a grinding halt. They remained stuck there as they entered the lobby. It was cool indoors, inoffensive music playing overhead. It wasn't until they'd taken several steps in that he realised the door had been held open by a doorman. There was a concierge, security, even someone who potentially might be a bellhop. The whole set up reminded Diego less of a luxury apartment and more of a hotel. 

Staggering after Klaus, his arms wrapping around the vase and flowers that he was still carrying, Diego stayed close behind. Klaus waved at the elevator operator, and Diego once again found himself choking as he was introduced to the staff. Not for the first time, Diego was swept over with gratitude with Klaus' ability to talk about anything and everything. He didn't need to worry about making conversation as he stepped into the elevator and the day's events were rehashed for the elevator operator. 

Memories of his own upbringing came washing back as he stood there. He hadn't wanted for anything, that was true. Diego hadn't been remained unaware of money issues until his teens and he began to understand the concept of a budget and what it meant to save. The idea of anything being above (or below) that had been hazy at best. But now, as he stepped from the elevator and into a lush, carpeted hallway complete with ivory walls, it came crashing into him hard. 

'How- what- ' 

Nothing else could come out. He watched as Klaus dug into the back pocket of his ridiculous pants with leather patches. He'd taken his coat off at some point on the elevator ride up. Diego's eyes ran up to take in the shirt that barely skimmed his navel, the vest that had probably been picked out of an army supply store. Unlaced boots and beaded bracelets that adorned his wrists. He turned and looked over his shoulder at Diego, a bright, expectant look on his face. He didn't fit as the type of person who lived in this type of place in any way, and yet somehow here he was. 

Finding the key, he slid it home into the lock. He turned the handle, the latch clicked, and the door swung open. The boots were kicked off and Klaus padded with bare feet into the tiled, open floor. Diego felt like he'd sprouted roots and was unable to move. The gyros Eudora had bought him for lunch from a food cart down the road was threatening to come spilling up. 

In front of him, a vast, wide window showed the city lights; it would be gorgeous to witness at night. Diego had never been one who was envious about things like views, but he suddenly had a pang to see it. A wall of bookshelves ran across the edge of the room; several titles had been pulled down and littered the coffee table. Taking half a step in, Diego peered around the expansive living room and the adjacent kitchen to the left. Through an open door to the right, he could see a room that seemed to have been converted into a would-be art studio. To the left was another passageway that appeared to lead to the master bedroom. 

'Come in,' Klaus said, waving him in. 'You're making the place look untidy.' 

Diego only managed a guttural grunt. Stepping in, he watched as Klaus carried his shoes to a shoe rack. He lightly shut the door behind him, almost afraid to make any nose. Before he had time to kick off his own shoes, Klaus had swept in and had taken the vase from him. 

'You... this is yours?' Diego finally choked out, trying to avoid any of the problematic syllables. 

'Yes. No. Sort of. It's complicated,' came Klaus' response as he crossed the far-too-wide living room and set the vase down on the kitchen counter, where the bright yellow petals caught the sunlight. 

'Complicated?' Diego echoed as he lightly kicked his shoes beside Klaus'. He wondered if he ought to take off his socks, too, before he decided to just leave them on. 

Klaus looked over his shoulder. There was a twitch in his eye, a quirk in his lip as he smiled. A compulsion to neaten himself overcame Diego and he began to roll up the cuffs of his sleeves. He was suddenly, painfully aware of the dirt stain on his jeans, the grass strain on the front of his plaid shirt. Shrugging out of his light coat, he slid it over the hook on the back of the door. He didn't want to go about searching for a closet. Klaus had thrown his coat over the back of a couch. 

'Would you like something to eat? Drink?' Klaus asked, the sudden change in topic not missing Diego. 'I have... there's water. Coffee? Oh, I bought this lovely tea the other day, it's got passionflower and lavender in it- ' 

'Black tea is fine,' Diego said, uncertain where he ought to sit. 

There were a pair of stools opposite the kitchen counter. Thick, wrought iron legs that wound up to a pale wood. Diego ran his hand over them as he pulled one out and sat down, half-expecting someone to come running out and beat him over the back of the head. Eudora would love them. As Klaus went about boiling a teakettle ( _how adorable_ , Diego couldn't help but think), he discretely checked his phone and set it to silent. 

'Five lives above you, right?' Diego asked, watching as Klaus pulled out a box of shortbread and set several on a small plate. 'I think he mentioned that.' 

Klaus shoved one of the cookies in his mouth, a light dusting over powder on his lips. His brow furrowed as he shot Diego a confused, puzzled look. 

'Who? Oh, you mean- ' 

The teakettle began to whistle. The shortbread was set in front of him and he was granted to the sight of Klaus reaching high above him to pull a pair of mugs down from the cabinet above the sink. The back of his vest rode up to reveal the smooth dip of his waist and spine, a pair of dimples above the waistband of his pants. His teeth grazed his lower lip as he tried to busy his hands by taking one of the cookies. 

'Yeah, he lives upstairs with his mother,' Klaus carried on with barely a pause. 'She's equally overprotective and incredibly absent. I've never met anyone like her. I walk away feeling like I've been caught in a sandstorm.' 

'I have no idea what that might be like,' Diego drawled, his chin resting on his hand as he let his elbows drop to the counter. 

Klaus turned and looked back at him. His eyes narrowed and his lips turned upwards. He snorted, shook his head, and went back to the mugs. 

'I think he's lonely,' Klaus carried on. 'He's never quite gotten on with children his own age. It's difficult. The kids in his class don't like him.' 

'He's bullied?' 

That was a surprise. Diego took the cup that was offered to him and held it in his hands, watching as Klaus rounded the counter and sat down beside him. He'd certainly developed a good idea that Five struggled to fit in, but not to the point of being picked on. 

'No, no. Nothing like that. They just... ignore him. His interests a little too... erudite for boys of his age.' 

Diego tilted his head to the side. He had a sneaking suspicion Klaus might have had a familiarity of that. He was an eccentric breed, and his mannerisms spoke of someone who was friendly with the fringe of society. But his vocabulary and choice of words spoke of someone who was far better read than what Diego would expect. He'd had an inkling for a long while, but the bookshelves alone confirmed it. 

'So you've taken him under your multicoloured wing, huh?' 

With a wave of a hand and a small nod, Klaus smiled. It wasn't as broad as it usually was, and Diego swore he saw a faint twitch at the edges. His tea was a vivid pink, and Diego watched as he sipped it. It felt wrong to be watching him in that moment. A crack had begun to appear in the vibrant varnish that Klaus painted himself with. He was witnessing something private. Lowering his gaze, he tapped his fingers along the edge of the mug and turned to look around the room. 

There were paintings on the wall between the bookshelves. Diego wondered if they were Klaus' or someone else's. Picture frames lined one of the shelves, but they were too far away for Diego to see them clearly. A blanket was draped over the back of a couch, a little ratty from use, while another, neatly folded, sat upon a single-seater armchair. From where he was positioned, he could see further into the art room, where a tarp stretched out over the floor and the wide open window brought in sunlight. 

'This place is gorgeous,' he finally said. 'I've always wondered what it would be like to live here. Or at least see what it looks like.' 

The whole place felt too big for one person. Klaus, as far as Diego could tell, had some kind of livable income, but it didn't seem enough to afford this place. The décor, though, didn't seem to be mandated by any kind of landlord. 

Turning back to him, Diego found himself being stared at. Clutching the mug, Diego froze. His mind immediately went back to the dirt on his jeans, the stain on his shirt. Carefully, he rubbed his hand over his face, searching for some soil or trace remains from a morning spent wrapping and preparing flowers. 

'This was my husband's place,' Klaus admitted quietly. 

Each of the five words in the sentence hit Diego at different times. 

_This_ was his husband's place. This _was_ his husband's place. This was his _husband's_ place? 

He wasn't sure which one required his attention the most. His eyes darted to the breathtaking view out the window, where the sun had begun to sink behind the buildings. Another quick glance, his eyes down to Klaus' left hand. Then back to the couch, the blanket, the rug he hadn't noticed before that had a vibrant burgundy pattern. 

' _Was_?' he finally settled upon. 

Klaus swallowed hard. He set the mug down, a little heavier than seemed intended. The steaming, pink liquid lapped at the edges of the mug, and Diego distractedly grabbed the dish cloth that was folded nearby and mopped it up. 

'He- _we_ , um- ' 

Waiting quietly, Diego didn't try to push as Klaus stammered over the words. As he folded the towel up and set it aside, he watched Klaus pulled on a chain hidden under his shirt. He'd seen it before, at the park. A flash of it, just a hint when Klaus had been reading and had been toying with it. A pair of dog tags emerged, clattering against one another as he held them up for Diego to see. His hand shook a little, a faint tremble that he tried to hide by curling his fingers around the chain. 

'I'm sorry.' The words came out as a whisper, barely audible. 'I didn't know.' 

The smile that crossed over Klaus' lips was thin and didn't reach his eyes. Clutching the dog tags, he squeezed his eyes shut and turned away, his jaw twitching a little as he took a shivering breath. 

'I didn't tell you,' came the shaky reply. 'I wanted to hold onto it a little bit more.' 

Diego didn't know what he meant. Death was an abstract idea for him, despite him being familiar with it. He had mourned when his father had died, but it had felt more like a necessary requirement than anything else. His birth mother had died shortly after he'd been born, and the woman he called his mother was his father's third wife. He hadn't grieved for either of his biological parents the way he assumed many people would. 

He wished suddenly he had something to say. Some wise words, some sort of kindness. He'd felt as much a loss for nuance as when Eudora's grandmother had died. All he'd been able to do was hold her until she pulled free and waved her hands at him to leave. 

Klaus' grief felt more distant. There was time to it. It didn't seem like it stung so bad; like the breath Eudora would take when she'd bring up her grandmother, or the slight slip his mother would have when she'd correct herself from _is_ to _was_ when speaking about his father. 

'Is this why you brought me here?' Diego asked softly. 

There was a faint click as Klaus took a breath. Diego ached to reach over and place his hand between his shoulder blades, settle him a little, but he resisted the desire. Instead, he let his knee swing out and bump against Klaus', just a small gesture to let him know he was still there, listening. 

'I thought I was going to be a wreck when he died,' he finally said, mostly into his mug. 'And I was. Just... not in the way I expected myself to be. The way everyone else expected me to be. It took a while for it to all feel real, y'know? I kept waiting for it to hit, and then... it just sort of spread itself out. Took its time.' 

Diego nodded. That was familiar. Grief, he had learnt, never quite came as people wanted it to. 

Letting go of the tags, Klaus reached down his shirt and pulled out another chain. This was one was thinner, longer. On the end was something Diego guessed was a wedding band, plus a small, disc-like object. Klaus tugged on it and dragged it up, the bronze hue catching the light. 

'Sobriety has been tough,' he said, turning the chip around. 'But somehow, since Dave... it's been easier to remember him.' 

As the chain with the chip and band fell back against the tags, Diego carefully reached over. Not to touch the necklaces, but instead to touch Klaus. His hand folded over Klaus', and for a breath he just let it rest there. The unknowing confusion about what to do swept over him again, but this time he let it sit. Even the hunger to turn his hand over and trace the tattooed letters again was muted but the simplicity of just sitting there and holding his hand. Their fingers folded together and Diego just sat there, watching as Klaus' thumb brushed over his own. Up and down, back and forth. 

It was a good minute before Klaus' hand turned and he let his fingers drift to enclose Diego's. He swallowed hard, tossed back the rest of the tea, and slid down off the stool. Waving his other hand, he pulled Diego over to one of the bookshelves where the photographs sat. It was strangely easy to accept that Klaus was holding his hand, cool and soft and light in his own. 

Standing in front of the bookshelves, Diego looked them over. There were a few places that lacked dust, indicating the frames had been moved. In the photos that still adorned the shelves were Klaus and a man Diego didn't recognise, smiling in a variety of locations; Disneyland, a beach, somewhere hot that had Klaus' hair developing into a tight ringlets. 

His name was Dave, surname Katz. Medals ran along the edge of one shelf, a field cap high on another. The name bounced around Diego's mind until he distantly recalled taking orders for a funeral and wake some two years earlier. Klaus' name hadn't been on any of them, and he wondered if they were from friends and family. It felt peculiarly symbolic that he'd been working on a wake that morning. 

Klaus' voice was soft as he spoke of Dave. A smile lingered on his face as they regrouped on the couch, his legs tucked under him. Diego found himself laughing along to stories, listening to the soft lilt in Klaus' voice, quietly delighting in seeing him smile. His thumb would drag under under the chain as he pulled the tags across, the chain clicking along each notch. There was a softness to Klaus' expression, a sweetness and melancholy that was often overtaken by a cheekiness and carelessness when Diego saw him outside of this apartment. 

His head lolled to the side and came to rest upon his arm. Diego hadn't noticed how Klaus had draped himself over the back of the couch. His fingers danced over the curls of his hair, Diego noticing not for the first time how they tended to become more tightly wound when he played with them. He was being regaled with stories of Klaus' adventures with Dave, but he couldn't help but focus on the warmth of the smile in front of him, the way the bright green eyes lit up as he laughed. It was good to see Klaus so happy. 

'Thank you,' Diego said softly. 'For telling me. It's... thank you.' 

'I'm glad I told you. It's... it's good. Easier that I thought it would be.' 

Although his eyes fell down, Klaus' smile didn't disappear. He nodded and shifted to sit a little more upright. As he seemed to consider a response, his fingers dragging back and forth over the back of the couch, there was a sharp rapping on the door. Diego sat straighter (he wouldn't admit he'd been startled), while Klaus, all gangly limbs and muddling grace, launched himself up. He threw himself over the back of the couch, surprising Diego, and tossed himself at the door. 

Peering over from where he sat, Diego tried to look past Klaus. He recognised the scrawny legs, the sound of a petulant huff. 

'Mom locked me out. Again. Can I climb up the back?' 

It was Five. Diego watched as Klaus stepped back to let him in, his backpack hanging heavily from his shoulders. It was strange to see him in his full school regalia, fresh from class. He had the courtesy of only looking marginally surprised by Diego's presence on the couch. There was half a stumble, a tiny widening of his eyes, before he returned the wave Diego gave him and crossed straight over to the fire escape. Diego had the distinct impression he was playing it far cooler than he really felt. Diego was, too. 

'Where- ' 

'Fire escape,' the boy said before Diego could question him. 'I leave my window open for this reason.' 

'Isn't that dangerous?' 

Five shrugged a shoulder. 'I'm half-hoping someone eventually kidnaps Pogo.' 

Diego did a double take at that. Five was already halfway out the window and crawling onto the fire escape. He felt he ought to stop him (or at least encourage Klaus to chastise him a little more, as he had a few problems with the idea of a small dog being kidnapped), but it didn't seem like it would matter all that much. Klaus was handing him his backpack through the window and waving him goodbye as he clambered up the fire escape. He sang up some farewell that sounded German (if Diego's memories of _Cabaret_ were anything to go by) and turned back around to find Diego rubbing his hands together and looking back at the door. 

'What does his mother do?' he asked, gesturing from the door to the window. 

Klaus just shrugged. 

'She travels a lot,' he said, closing the window shut. The dog tags were dangling down the front of his shirt and Diego's eyes watched them sway back and forth. 'She's told me more times than I care to remember. I'd ask, but I _really_ don't care. She's just gone a lot and leaves him to talk care of himself.' 

'Doesn't it worry you, though?' Diego asked. He darted his eyes to the ceiling and nodded. 'Him being alone like that?' 

For a breath, Klaus just seemed to consider the question. He rolled his shoulders back and forth, swaying a little, and cracked his knuckles. 

'Maybe? Yes?' he said thoughtfully as he leant against the window sill. 'And if he doesn't stop by in the afternoon, I go up and check on him. Make sure he actually speaks to an actual person instead of his little girlfriend on his Instachat. Snapgram. Whatever it is those impressionable youths use these days.' 

'Delores?' 

'No, the... the Myspace of Gen Zees. Face... blur.' 

'No, I mean- Delores, his girlfriend, Delores?' 

'Yeah, her. He speaks to her all night on the Faceblur if I don't knock on the door and pull him away.' 

And there it was, that windswept feeling that he was being sucked into a tornado again by Klaus' busy mind. Standing there, he watched as Klaus cracked each knuckle again, his bare feet smacking against the white wall as he looked at him across the room. 

As surprised as Diego was by Klaus' apparent lack of knowledge of modern social media (a large portion of his clientele perused the store's Instagram and Facebook before coming in), Diego wasn't nearly as startled as when Klaus pressed away from the window and wandered over to him. It was slow, his bare feet running over the carpet as he took long, sweeping steps. His feet ran back and forth in an almost balletic display as he ran a hand along the back of the couch and leant against it. 

'So, I have a gallery opening next month,' he said, drawling the vowels as he tilted his head to the side and looked up at the ceiling. 'It's probably of no interest to you, but if you had nothing better to do...' 

'Would I like to come?' Diego finished as Klaus trailed off. 

'No, I was going to ask if you wouldn't mind watering my plants while I was out for the evening.' 

The response was so utterly deadpan that it took Diego a beat to realise Klaus was joking. He laughed softly, eyes down, and ran a hand over the back of his head. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Klaus heaving himself onto the back of the couch, smiling as his feet swung back and forth. 

'There'll be a lot of annoying, art critic types, so I understand if it's beneath you. Or above you. But there's always plenty of free food and sometimes trinkets, which helps soothe the palate a little. And sometimes champagne. Makes them all a little more tolerable. Makes _me_ more tolerable, too, or so I've been told. People respond to my sobriety in a whole manner of ways.' 

'I'd like to come,' Diego said quickly, with a shrug of a shoulder. He tried to play it cool, casual, and he had middling success. 'I'll bring sparkling grape juice. So it looks like you're drinking.' 

Klaus lifted his eyes. He watched Diego through his lashes; if he didn't know any better, Diego would say that Klaus was blushing softly, perhaps even flirting a little. It was likely just the hazy, warm light coming in through the window, though, as the sun began to set and the sky turned a dusky pink. 

'Well...' Diego started, his hand resting on the back of his neck. 'I should- I'll leave you to your evening. Um. Send me the details? Let me know? However you... however it happens.' 

Babbling a little, feeling his childhood stutter building up in the back of his throat, he stepped back towards the front door. Klaus watched him, apparently not moving, before he realised what Diego was doing. Perking up, he nodded and hurried over, walking him all of six paces to the front door. 

'I'll stop by,' he said, Diego noting the feigned casual tone, similar to his own. 'The store. Your store. With the details.' 

Lingering just a breath too long, Diego took a breath. Then, picking up his shoes and opening the door, he waved a little over his shoulder, giving Klaus one last smile, before he headed to the elevator, barefoot. 


	18. [appointment book ii]

**_SATURDAY_**

**_November 9 th, 2019_**

_Follow your inner moonlight;_

_don't hide the madness_

_-Allen Ginsberg_

***

9:00 – P & S Boon 

Bridal appointments 

Roses (w, r) 

Baby's breath 

10:00 – D & F McGuiness 

Prom 

Roses (w, r, p) 

Orchids 

Q.A lace 


	19. quaking grass

In the days following his visit to Klaus' too lush, too big apartment, Diego felt like his mood had been buoyed. A rejuvenation had overtaken him. Sure, they might have had that semi-awkward encounter at the park, but they were both adults. They had moved past that. It didn't have to be a defining moment of their relationship- or, as it was, their _friendship_. They both had a vested interest in Five's well being. They were both artists (in a manner of speaking; Diego wasn't a painter like Klaus). Hell, they were both out of place in a way. Klaus was too bohemian for his luxury apartment, and Diego was a boxer who worked as a florist. 

November brought with it early snow and early sunsets. Eudora proceeded through to the next stage of her application, just as Diego had expected. He had given both a verbal and a written character assessment. Five would arrive at the store with snow in his hair and on his shoulders that quickly melted away. 

November also, frustratingly, continued to bring sunflowers. Diego stared at the crates as they were pulled off the truck, his phone in hand as he dialled number after number. He had taken to donating bundles of them to the hospital, the local women's shelter, even to funeral homes and cemeteries in a desperate attempt to just get them out of the store. Calling the warehouse and stockist had become as much of his daily routine as cleaning the floors and settling the till at the end of the day. 

He had gotten through twice. On the first occasion, he had almost dropped the phone in shock, terrified that he might have accidentally hung up. Then, in a moment of utter irony, as he was being transferred to the correct department, the connection had dropped and he had heard nothing but the dial tone. 

The second time, he managed to actually get transferred to the correct department. He was placed on hold while his account was being pulled up... and had never been taken off it. Diego had sat on hold for half an hour, before using Five's phone to try calling through again on another line. 

'Why don't you drive out there?' Five asked when Diego handed him ten dollars as thanks. He was sitting behind the computer, updating the store's Instagram account. 

'Because the main office is across the state line. It's a five hour drive.' 

'Make a road trip of it. See some sights. You've spent more than ten hours on the phone now, right?' 

Diego gave Five a weary look. Shaking his head, he clapped him on the shoulder and slipped past him to start on that weekend's orders. A wedding, a school ball, a bouquet for his mother that had become the beneficiary for more than a few of the goddamn flowers. Even she had begun to remark on it; his sweet, bright-eyed mother who had raised him since he was baby had begun to question this madness of sunflowers. 

Most frustratingly of all, she had also begun to pick up on something _else_ about him. She'd smile coyly as she'd set the newest bouquet beside the others he had been bringing her every weekend. There was a glimmer in his eye, a nervous twist in his hands as he'd talk about the week. Diego would play dumb, pretend he had no idea what she was talking about. Work was fine, Eudora was doing well in her training, Five was still eccentric, and... 

Taking a breath, Diego dragged himself away from those thoughts. Grace could assume all she liked. Nothing was going on. Diego liked his life the way it was, with his boxing and his flowers and the funny people that had begun to enter it. Sure, he might have brought Klaus up a couple of times, but the hitch in his voice and the wistful gaze in his eyes didn't mean anything. Maybe he was just caught up with work. 

If he sometimes looked at Klaus a little too long it was because he was impossible to look away from. If he sometimes entered Diego's dreams and left him frustrated and hot, it was because he was like the sun. He seared Diego's mind and left a shadow there. If he sometimes played back the memory of the kiss in his mind, then it was only because it had been so impossibly long since his last kiss. 

With a shivering breath, he forced himself to return to his work. A ribbon was threaded around the stems of the flowers, an elaborate knot to keep them all twisted together. His knife made quick work of the ends, slicing them on an angle so they stood up in a vertical array. He was adding the final twist in the bouquet when he heard Five's voice raising in a yell. 

Confused (and more than a little worried), he stood up out of his seat. Folding the blade of the knife into itself and then sliding it into the sleeve of his turtleneck, Diego stepped from the workroom. The store was empty. The yelling was coming from the stock room. Baffled, Diego walked back, peering through the doorway, ready to tackle whoever was there. 

It was Five. It was also the two couriers who had begun to haunt his dreams almost as much as Klaus, only for a worse reason. And, like in his nightmares, they had brought with them crates. Piles and piles of crates. 

'Assholes!' Five was shouting as he stood in front of the male courier, trying desperately to shove one of the crates back at him. 'Get the fuck out of here, we don't want them!' 

'Kid- ' 

' _Asshole_!' 

'What... what is...' Diego started, fumbling to find anything to say. Even his stutter couldn't save him. 

'Your son is preventing us from unloading the truck,' Hazel-with-a-capital-E said. 

That might have been what was stated, but Diego was stuck watching the woman pull a new crate down. From where he stood, it looked like six had already been hauled down. There were several more in the back of the truck. 

Diego wasn't sure how to address any of this. Nor was he sure how to handle Five being called his son, nor the barrage of curses that was spilling from him. He was stuck staring as another crate was pulled down. Normally he'd offer to help, but he was stuck on the spot, mouth agape and eyes locked on the crates. 

'He's- I'm not- there's been a misunderstanding.' 

'You can't do this!' Five huffed, storming over to try to stop the woman from dragging down the next crate. 

If he'd heard the son quip, he wasn't saying anything. At least one of them was capable of moving. That was a boon, Diego supposed. 

'It's our _job_ ,' she replied. Diego thought her name tag said Cha-Cha. 'Go back to your dad, kid.' 

'We have no space!' 

Five whipped around to look at Diego. He felt like he needed to sit down. The crates they had been receiving had been frustrating, but he'd been staying on top of them. Mostly. They had begun to overtake his apartment, his kitchen and living room becoming home to a half dozen boxes. He'd been driving at least one box out a day to a hospital, a shelter, a funeral home. Hell, he'd even take one over to the art department at the nearest high school. 

This was insane. Twelve brand new crates stared at him. 

'Why?' he finally said, helplessly. 

'Who's your boss?' Five asked, his hands on his hips as he stared up at Hazel. 'We've been calling for _weeks_ and no one's answering. I want the name of your manager!' 

Hazel looked down at Five and then up at Diego. Instead of looking miffed (which his partner certainly seemed to be), he looked far more amused. Diego only winced a little as he took a step over and put a firm hand on Five's shoulder, trying to pull him back. 

'Cute kid.' 

'He'll make a great soccer mom some day,' Cha-Cha drawled as she signed off the packing slip and left it atop one of the crates. 

'Why do you do this?' Diego finally asked. 'Why? Do I look like I have the space for all of this? Do I look like I _need_ any more sunflowers?' 

He gestured behind himself to the wall of boxes that lined the room. Some were empty, but he still hadn't had a chance to get rid of the crates. Others were partly opened. Diego had been picking through them, trying to find what he could sell, what hadn't started to wilt and die, what actually hadn't started to rot because he couldn't store them appropriately. That was becoming a real and definite problem. There were only so many ways he could make potpourri and mulch from sunflowers. 

The back of the truck was shut, the crash of the doors echoing across the walls. 

'I don't know,' Hazel replied in a way that might have actually been sympathetic if Diego had been able to focus on it. 'You need to talk to management.' 

'I've been _trying_ ,' Diego groaned as he began to follow them back to the truck. 'And I can't get through to them.' 

'You're not the only one,' Cha-Cha drawled. 'I'm sorry, pal, but we can only go where they tell us to go. If you figure out how to get through to them, let us know.' 

'Then how do you get told?' 

The two shared a look. Then, without a word, they hauled themselves up into the truck. Diego stared in mournful shock as the doors were slammed and the truck pulled away. Standing there, his hands running through his hair, Diego felt a cold sweat run through him. He turned slowly and looked at the piles and piles of sunflowers that he somehow needed to move. Sunflowers he had yet to be charged for, sunflowers he couldn't possibly afford to pay. 

The sun was pouring through the open roller door of the stock room. Shoulders sagging, Diego headed to one of the crates as Five went to push the button to shut the door. Sinking down, he let the switchblade fall from his sleeve and into his hand. He mindlessly flung it open, his gaze unfocused. He was only acutely aware of Five heading back to him, his steps soft, as he twirled the knife around his fingers. 

'You had that on you?' 

'Huh?' Diego looked up. 

Five pointed at the knife. With a nod, Diego held it up for him to look at. It was taken from him, the oyster pearl handle turned over and admired as Five sat down beside him. 

'What were you gonna do with it?' 

'I dunno,' Diego said with a shrug. 'I heard yelling. Wouldn't be my first scuffle.' 

'Is that why you couldn't join the police?' 

Diego narrowed his eyes at Five. It seemed like Eudora had been talking to him. Without confirming or denying, he hunched forward, elbows on his knees and tried to ignore the tension headache that was beginning to form. 

'It was a gift from my father,' he said, his forehead resting on his arms, gesturing a little to the knife. 

His old man would be laughing now. There was no way in hell Diego would be able to get out of this mess. At frustrating as the initial stock of sunflowers had been, he could at least work with it. Sell some of it, donate the rest. Sure, it had been moving slowly, but he had been able to get rid of one crate a day in sales, or thereabouts. This was something else, though. There was still a risk he was going to be lumped with a fee if and when the stockist realised what had happened. 

He was screwed. Completely screwed. 

'Mister Diego?' 

The handle of the switchblade pressed into his palm. Looking up, the corners of his mouth tight, Diego took the knife back from Five. The boy's eyes were on him, his brows furrowed together. He had that strange look about him again, the one where Diego couldn't possibly figure out his age. 

'Hm?' 

'Why can't you just throw them out?' 

'If the stockist eventually makes contact, they'll want to know where it all went. I'll be charged a fee, sure, but at least donations to hospitals and the sort can be written off as a charitable expenditure. I can't just dump them, because that'll be money down the drain. Not to mention I might be charged an illegal dumping fee.' 

Pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes, Diego gave a small groan. All he wanted to do was go to the gym and attack a bag for an hour. Maybe he'd even call Luther. If he was hospitalised for a few days, he wouldn't need to deal with the damn flowers. 

'Mister Diego?' 

'Yeah?' 

'I might be able to help.' 

That had Diego's attention. Looking up, he turned to the boy again. He was staring out, over the boxes with a strangely determined look on his face. With tightly pursed lips, Five nodded to himself. He was such a strange boy. 

'I can make some calls,' he said, with the air of a businessman making an important decision. 'I can ask and see if they're happy to take them. It would probably be after hours, though.' 

'What, are you going to have someone shot?' 

Five turned to look at him quickly. There was a still moment, and Diego found himself leaning back a little. Then, with a shake of his head, he gave a snort. 

'No. I don't think Eudora would let me get away with that.' 

Diego really wasn't sure if Five was being serious or deadpan. Humming, deciding he didn't want to find out, Diego pushed himself up. Sliding the knife back into the cuff of his sleeve, Diego dusted his hands off and gestured about the stock room. 

'Go nuts, kiddo. I just need a tax invoice, if you can get one.' 

With a nod of understanding, Five stood up. Mimicking Diego's behaviour, he dusted his hands and turned to look at him. His chin was tilted up, his eyes bright. If there was one thing he had learnt during Five's time working with him was that that look on his face was never a good sign. Clenching his jaw just a little, he took a breath and went to enter the main store again. 

'So, you would've had stabbed someone for me?' 

Wincing just a touch, Diego waved a hand. 

'Please don't phrase it like that.' 

'But you would have?' Five persisted. 

'If you were being harmed, I'd use a reasonable amount of force to protect you.' 

Five looked far too giddy about that. Glancing over his shoulder as he retreated to the workshop, Diego rolled his eyes and shook his head. His thumb turned over the switchblade that had fallen back into his hand, his eyes lingering on Five. He was a strange, young boy, and Diego never quite knew what to make of him. But he had a good heart, a good soul. Diego also knew what it was like to grow up lonely and alone. 

Sitting down behind his desk, looking over to where Five clouded his doorway. Draping an arm over the back of the seat, Diego gave him a lopsided smile. 

'Thank you,' he said softly. 'For trying to help. I appreciate it.' 

A twitch ran across Five's features. He flinched a little, his eyes dropping to his hands as he twisted them around. Another twitch, another flinch as he leant against the doorway. He crossed one leg over the other in a manner that reminded Diego of himself. 

'Yeah, well... I like the store. And I... you're my friend,' he said weakly. 'I'll see if I can get the sunflowers gone for you.' 

Diego's heart warmed at that. Not Five's attempt at helping move the flowers (though Diego wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth), but at being called a friend. Maybe it was a touch peculiar, having someone of Diego's age as a friend, but it was better him than someone who would lead him down a worse path. 

'Tell you what,' he said. 'I think we've got a gap in bookings next weekend. Why don't you block out some time, and we'll work on Delores' flowers. Mm?' 

Five's eyes lifted. A grin appeared and he nodded, all hints of teen insecurity disappearing. Diego met his smile and turned back to his desk and the flowers that were sitting there, partially forgotten. Flicking the blade from the handle, he went about resuming his work. As he picked up the next wheel of ribbon, he heard Five scurrying off to pull out the appointment book. Maybe he'd see if he could convince Five to add a few sunflowers into the arrangement. 


	20. buttercup

Diego couldn't decide if Five was being deliberately cagey with his plans for the crates of sunflowers or not. He'd hover around, making phone calls and asking when Diego would be fine for the flowers to be picked up. Diego didn't mind all that much; he only wanted them out, gone, preferably yesterday if at all possible. It had been several days, and the flowers still sat there, taking up space in the cool room, while many more began to crowd his upstairs living quarters. 

The only break in all of it was that the couriers hadn't come around again. Diego prayed that perhaps they had gotten through to their own management and had told them what was going on. It was a hope on high, Diego knew as much. 

The week began to bleed into the weekend. His Saturday morning was filled with pick-ups and deliveries alike. While he handled the appointments with brides and mothers-of-the-brides, Eudora showed Five how to liaise with the store's own private delivery drivers and prepare the flowers to leave the store. Diego kept an eye on them between appointments, sticking his head into the workshop and cool room. It was sweet to watch. 

His last appointment was at eleven. As the last shipment of flowers left the store and Eudora and Five waved as they left, Diego's phone buzzed. It was Klaus. 

_Can I pop by?_

His hands hovered over the screen of his phone. Strangely, he wasn't nervous. Instead, he didn't want to seem like he was too excited, too quick to respond. But, as the doors chimed for his last appointment, he hastily tapped a response and hit send. 

_yeah!! i'm done at 1130 :-) 12 ok? xx_

It was only when he checked his phone once the appointment was done (seven bouquets, all white roses and baby breath, that was going to be as dull as mayo on toast) that Diego realised just what he'd sent. His eyes locked onto the last two letters of his text, and cold rush going through him as he nearly threw his phone across the room. 

'Oh- oh no, oh no, oh no, no, no- ' 

Klaus' one-word response ( _neato!_ ) didn't indicate if he'd read anything into it. Twisting his hands together in nervousness, Diego spun around on the spot. Running his thumb over the scar on his eyebrow, he leapt towards his workshop. He'd be arriving soon. 

Busy. He had to seem busy. If he seemed busy, then maybe Klaus would understand it had been a not-quite, somewhat-Freudian accident. 

Falling into his seat, he looked about. He needed something to fill his hands. Taking a deep breath, he grabbed the flowers on the bench. 

Sunflowers. Always sunflowers. Purple asters, intended to show Five for his bouquet to Delores. A handful of daffodils. A single red carnation. It would look ridiculous, but he needed to do something. Drumming his hands over the table, Diego took a deep breath. Maybe Klaus hadn't even acknowledged it– he'd sent more than a few similar texts before. It just wasn't Diego's type of messaging. He kept them short, to the point, direct. 

The process of trimming and cutting back the flowers, curling ribbon and bows around the stems and arranging them was soothing. It was why he'd gotten into this business. The rhythm of floristry was deeply calming. Winter nights with his mother, figuring out how to hang holly and mistletoe, how to present poinsettias. Spring and summers spent planting flowers, falls where they would prune them back and set vases in the kitchen. In a way, moving into this line of work had been a natural progression. Sure, it didn't have the excitement of the police, the thrill of knowing he was making a real change in the community, but Diego still felt that he was doing _something_ right. A gorgeous bouquet could lift someone's day. It could bring a smile to their face, a flutter in their heart. 

In the store was the chime of bells as the door was opened. It had been left unlocked for Klaus. Diego kept his eyes down, working on fanning the flowers out. A pair of sunflowers, the carnation between them, several inches down. Four daffodils, even lower. The asters were littered about, a ring of them at the front. As he tied them together, wrapping them in a lilac paper, he heard footsteps. He paused, tilting his head just an inch to the side, before resuming his work. He needed a moment to collect himself; already he could feel the words filling his mouth, unable to come out. 

As he closed the wrapping with a piece of tape, he finally turned and looked up at Klaus, presenting the bouquet to him. He was leaning in the doorway, wearing the blanket-jacket. His hands had paint on them, his shirt lightly splattered. Yellow, green, white. Some had even landed in his hair, and there was a streak under his eye. 

Confused, Diego lowered the flowers, his arm resting on the back of the chair. Cocking his head to the side, he gestured up and down with his other hand. 

'What- you have a fight with a tin of paint?' 

'Something like that,' Klaus said with a shrug as he pushed off the door frame. 'Are these for me?' 

Diego nodded. _God_ , he could feel his heart twist when he saw Klaus' eyes light up. Standing, hating the quiver in his knees, the thrum low in his belly, Diego forced himself to take a deep breath in through his nose. As Klaus crossed over to take them, Diego felt a wash of heat over his cheeks. 

'I know we have talked about what you want your n... next arrangement to be, so... these are from m... m... these are on the house.' 

As Klaus took them, their hands briefly touched. It was hardly anything. A brush of fingers, an incidental, accidental touch. It happened all the time. It was nothing. 

But it was everything. Diego saw it. The flicker in Klaus' eyes, the way he looked up, over the flowers as he took hold of them. The way his deep, green eyes met Diego's own, and _God_ , Diego was going to forget how to breathe. There was a flick of a tongue over Klaus' lips, and Diego tracked its movement with his eyes, his fingers digging into the desk beside him. It was littered with debris. Leaves, petals, strips of cut ribbon and fallen pollen. 

The workshop suddenly felt hot. Too hot. Warmth rippled over Diego as he tried to speak but found himself lost for words. His nails dragged over the top of the desk, forcing himself to stay still, to not lean over, to not ask Klaus if, maybe, possibly- 

'Do you want to get lunch?' 

' _Yes_ ,' Diego wheezed, less about the offer of food and more for the chance to distract himself with something other than the thoughts spiralling in his mind. 

He grabbed at the navy blue apron and hauled it off, tossing it over his head where it landed on the desk. Bits of leaves and cut flowers still clung to his hands, but he decided to pay it all no mind. If Klaus could catch a train and walk over with flecks of paint on himself, then Diego could do much the same. 

'There's a bistro a block away that's open,' Klaus said, jerking his thumb in what Diego supposed was meant to be the direction it was in. 'I pass it on my way here. Have you been there?' 

Diego just shook his head. Klaus followed him along as he went about, gathering his wallet and keys, his phone shoved into his back pocket. He was grateful for the prattle, glad someone else could speak while he worked on loosening his tongue. Klaus had never once brought it up, and for that he was mildly grateful (though he did wonder what Klaus thought of the stutter). 

As they left the store, Klaus held the flowers to his chest. The midday sun had melted the snow that had fallen early that morning. 

'Is it okay to carry them around like this?' he asked. 

Diego nodded. Safe topic. 'I keep them in what is basically a refrigerator that's colder than this.' 

Klaus was looking at him again. _That_ look. The one that made his stomach wrap knots in on itself. Breathing sharply, Diego quickly averted his gaze again. They had agreed with each other that it was a mistake the last time– the _only_ time. If Klaus wanted anything more, he'd have said something by now, surely. 

'You'll need to tell me sometime.' 

'Tell you what?' 

'How a guy like you wound up as a florist.' 

Laughing, the phrasing making it sound like they were in a movies from the fifties, Diego shook his head. 

'There's nothing all that interesting about it, I promise. I got injured after a bad fight and I had to take some time off work. My mom suggested I take a short course to keep myself occupied. Bam, now I'm here.' 

That was essentially the truth. It was enough of it to answer the most pertinent questions. 

Klaus simply nodded as he spoke, drinking all the information in. He had a way of looking at Diego, as though he were the only person in the room- or, in this instance, the street. It was a little overwhelming. Diego swallowed hard and hummed, trying to find the right words, the right thing to say. He was unaccustomed to talking about himself, particularly when someone like Klaus was giving him the full focus of his attention in that moment. 

Nearing the bistro, Klaus hurried forward. Holding the door open, he gestured for Diego to enter first. He could only imagine the pair they made; one covered in paint, the other with grass stains on his hands and jeans. The waitstaff even appeared a little confused at first, before being led to a table next to a window. The inclement weather had kept most people away that Saturday morning, and Diego couldn't blame them. 

Sitting down opposite Klaus, Diego watched as the flowers were very carefully set down by the window. He swore Klaus was smiling at them fondly, even as he covered his mouth with his hand. 

'I've been meaning to thank you,' Klaus said, once a jug of water had been placed before them. 'For keeping an eye on... what do you call him? Five?' 

With a laugh, Diego nodded and went about pouring them both a glass of water from the jug that was set down between them. Klaus gave an expression, suggesting the joke still hadn't been quite explained to him, but let it slide all the same. 

'He's an employee. I have a duty of care,' Diego said, not quite following what Klaus had been intending to say. 

'It's not just that. I mean... I've been at the gallery every evening just about. Usually I see him after school, especially while his mother's away, but I've been missing him. We text, but it's not the same. It's hard for him, especially during the holiday season.' 

Arching an eyebrow, Diego cocked his head to the side. Klaus had been looking at the menu, mouthing some of the dishes to himself, but he stopped when he saw Diego's eyes on him. 

'What?' 

'Are you sure he's not your son?' Diego asked, teasingly. 

'Ah, yeah,' Klaus laughed. 'As amazing as the sex would be, his mom is _definitely_ not my type. She'd probably suck my soul out through my nose. Jesus, they have corned beef. I haven't had that since my grandmother died.' 

Diego wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not- either of his remarks. Brows raised to his hairline, he idly scratched the scar on the side of his face and went about choosing his own meal. Every titbit of information that was given to him about Five was helping to slip into place a rather despondent view of his home environment. It was no wonder he had clung to Delores, whether she was in Canada or not. And then there was Klaus, who he seemed to bounce off, less like the father figured they joked he was, and more like an older brother. 

And, now, he had Diego and the store. 

He had been genuine when he had told Five he liked him. He was a sweet kid, his stubborn moods and dry, sardonic humour notwithstanding. He worked hard and he was determined to do well at his job. Diego worried about him sometimes, too, now that he knew that his home life was sorely lacking. 

As Diego turned it all over in his mind, a waitress came to take their orders. Klaus, deciding memories of his grandmother's cooking was too distasteful, ordered some sort of fruit parfait. Diego stuck with bacon and eggs. 

'Breakfast for lunch? _Très chic_.' 

'I just really like eggs,' Diego laughed, waving a hand to stop Klaus from laughing at him. 

Underneath the table, he felt Klaus' foot knock against his own. Freezing for a beat, Diego's eyes locked on the table. They weren't seventeen. They didn't play footsie. It could be a simple accident. But Klaus' foot didn't move, and Diego felt no strong compulsion to pull his own away. Ever so carefully, he shifted in his seat so he was a little more relaxed, and cautiously knocked his own back against Klaus'. 

'How's your gallery showing going?' he asked, feigning a casual air, while clearly having no idea on the appropriate language. 'Showing? Viewing? Set up?' 

'Battles with paint aside?' Klaus rolled his eyes to the ceiling. 'I have mastered the art of procrastination, and it will be the death of me. But I do think I'll scrape in, just in time.' 

There was a brief pause, and then Klaus looked down, towards Diego. He sat forward, his fingers drumming back and forth over the table as he made a strange humming noise. Without warning, he reached forward and folded his hand over Diego's. 

'I was wondering... would you be able to do a piece for the opening? Something big. You could use whatever sunflowers you have left.' 

Diego couldn't think. His mind had fallen to a cliff's edge and had toppled right off. The hand was cool. Soft, even with the paint on it. Diego wasn't quite sure if Klaus had even realised what he was doing. His hands were always moving, his fingers twitching and hands waving as he took in the world around him. Even as his fingers curled around Diego's, he was sure it was just an accident. An incidental touch. 

'When is it?' 

'Saturday from next.' 

Quickly running through the appointments he had booked, Diego gave a small shrug. Klaus was still holding his hand. He couldn't possibly think when Klaus was holding his hand. 

'Yeah,' he finally said, realising he needed to say something. Then, remembering the wedding he had to prepare that afternoon, 'I can drop it off in the morning, around eleven. Come back in the evening for the actual showing.' 

He still had no idea if that was the appropriate term. But Klaus still squeezed his hand, his foot tapped against Diego's own, and he nodded. 

'Eleven will be great. Food!' 

Diego had forgotten they were in a bistro. He had no idea what food had to do with anything, until a plate with bacon and eggs were placed in front of him. He withdrew his hand the same time Klaus did, grabbing his utensils. 

The silence as they ate was companionable. Klaus had a single-minded determination when he ate, something that Diego could relate to when it came to the hours he put in at the gym. But though their hands weren't touching, Klaus' foot still remained touching Diego's own, their shins and knees occasionally knocking together until their legs were pressed against one another, as best as their positions would allow. 

As the dregs of their meal were finished up, the topic fell quite naturally back towards the gallery opening. Klaus, as always, had broad strokes about what he wanted. Colours, size, some elaborate piece that would sit in the centre. Diego had no idea what the centre was. A table, perhaps, that beverages and canapes would sit upon. His only concept of art galleries and showings was from popular media, and it always seemed so high above and culturally forward than anything he ever took part in. Sometimes he'd go see a movie at a French film festival, but only if Eudora dragged him along. 

It was actually a little bit exciting, though. Sure, he didn't have an active interest in it, but he certainly wasn't about to turn his nose up at it. He liked the opportunity to put on a collared shirt and cuff links as much as the next guy. Yeah, he didn't own an iron, but he could take his shirt to his mother's house for his usual weekend dinner with her and tell her about it. She was always telling him that he needed to go out to this sort of event. 

By the time he and Klaus left the bistro, his mind abuzz with possibilities, the air temperature had dropped several degrees. With a small noise of surprise, Diego shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his coat, his shoulders up to his ears. Huffing, he and Klaus both hurried their feet in an effort to escape the sharp cold that was blowing in. The bouquet of flowers were carefully shielded against the cold, which made Diego's expression soften a little, even in the blistering cold. 

The cold didn't stop Klaus' chatter, either. He spoke of the other showings that the gallery had had, the exhibits that were still open in other wings. Diego just nodded, listening and understanding nothing about minimalism or postmodernism or anything like that. They were words he was familiar with, if only from pop culture and how people scoffed at all of them. 

'How would you describe your style?' 

'Abstract impressionism.' 

Diego pursed his lips. His eyes fixed to the ground, he turned that concept over. 

'Do you know what that means?' Klaus asked, his tone a little wry. 

'I know the words, but they don't make sense,' Diego admitted with a tilt of his head. 

Klaus laughed. It was honest and broad, his head back to the frigid sky. It was good to see him laugh like that. Diego watched him from the corner of his eye, the corner of his mouth quirked up a little. Nearing his building, Diego tapped him on the bicep and pointed to the alley down the side of the building. It was still cold, but they'd escape the worst of the wind. 

'Can I paint this wall?' 

The question was far more earnest than Diego expected. Looking up over his shoulder, he studied it, trying to picture what Klaus might see in his mind's eye. 

'Sure. I guess. I'd have to find out. I'd have to get approval from the city,' Diego said. He'd been intending to sound glib, but as he spoke, he could feel it sliding into place. 'Approval from the other buildings, too. Shop owners and so forth. I own the building, but it's still city property, at least the downstairs portion. There might need to be an approval period. But yeah. If that all goes ahead, sure.' 

'I've never done a mural before,' Klaus admitted. 'Nothing to this extent. I did an impromptu indoor mural once, years ago, but nothing outdoors.' 

Stopping mid-step, Diego looked over his shoulder. There was Klaus, one hand in his pocket while the other cradled the bouquet, his face turned up to the wall. Unable to help himself, Diego took the opportunity to drink him in. The path of his chin, down his jaw and to the front of his throat. His lanky body, somehow elegant and effortless, even in a coat that might have been made of patchwork blankets. The thoughtful look on his face as he tilted his head, his bright eyes taking in the size of the wall and artistic opportunities. Occasionally he'd run the tallest of the flowers against his chin, a flurry of colours against his short goatee. 

It had started to snow. Diego hadn't even noticed. Despite standing at the end of the alley, at the corner that led to the back entrance, he hadn't been able to bring himself to move further. As the icy snow fell, Klaus finally turned to him. He headed over, the gravel road crunching under his boots. 

'I'm thinking something like Maurice Sendak,' he said, a distinct bounce in his step. 'You know, _Where the Wild Things Are_? Something black and white, in that style. But with flowers. Lots of flowers. And a robin egg blue backdrop.' 

Diego just nodded, accepting Klaus' artistic guidance. Leading him around the corner, they headed past the roller door to the stock room, the fire escape, and finally to his own door. Sure, it still led to the store, but nobody ever used it for that. Even Diego felt a little strange, entering the store via the rear. It opened up directly to the staircase, and further past was the hallway to the office, kitchenette and cool room. 

'This is me,' he said, jabbing his thumb at the door. 

Klaus didn't move. Snow clung to his hair, the tight curls growing a little wet. His shoulders were dusted with it, the flecks of ice melting into wool. The snow was melting on the bright petals. 

'I need to head home myself,' Klaus said softly. 'The canvases won't paint themselves.' 

'That's not an artistic movement now?' Diego asked. 'Blank canvases? Millennial art?' 

'That's called memes and Etsy.' 

'I know one of those words.' 

'Which one?' 

It had been somewhat imperceptible at first, but Klaus had stepped forward. So, too, had Diego. The crunch of gravel, the kiss of snow on his cheeks. It was freezing and Diego wanted to hurry inside and turn on a space heater, but he didn't want to leave. Not yet. Not when Klaus was there, looking at him, his long eyelashes flecked white, the tip of his nose a rosy red. 

'I can drive you home,' Diego suggested. 

'You could.' 

So close. Klaus was just a hair taller than him, and Diego had to tilt his chin up, just a fraction of an inch. His nose was cold, his breath warm, and he was _there_ , right _there_. Diego suddenly had a pang of regret over his choice of lunch, much as he had last time, but the thought didn't linger long when he felt Klaus' hand upon his cheek again. His fingers were freezing, but they were in his hair, around his ear, and Diego found his own hand gripping at Klaus' shirt to tug him forward just the slightest bit. The bouquet was crushed between them, but neither seemed to notice. 

Kissing him was as sweet as the first time, and not just because of the fruit and yoghurt on his tongue. With a faint, wavering noise from the back of his throat, Diego rocked against him, not wanting to let go just yet. It may have started more tentatively than the first kiss, but Klaus hurriedly deepened it, groaning a little into his mouth as he slid his other hand to the front of Diego's chest, the bouquet nestled in the crook of his elbow. He could die here, with cantaloupe and strawberry on his tongue, pollen staining his shirt and snow melting down the back of his collar. 

Tilting his head, Diego pulled him closer. The air was cold, Klaus was warm, and his jacket, as ridiculous as it was, provided some warmth for his hands. Sliding his hands around his middle, he shivered a little, not from cold but from the sound Klaus made as he was hauled in tight. Taking a few awkward, stumbling steps, Diego walked backwards until his back was flush to the wall. The bricks were cold, but Diego barely paid them any mind 

Klaus did, though. 

The hand that cupped the back of Diego's head slipped free, a gasp coming from him as he broke the kiss. Batting open his eyes, a little dazed, Diego watched as Klaus waved his hand. 

'Oh, that's fucking cold!' 

Both hands had moved from him, the flowers having dropped to the ground between them. Diego watched, trying to catch his breath. He could offer to warm them up. That would be the suave thing to do. Take Klaus by his tattooed hands, hold them in his own, hold them to his chest, offer to make him warm. 

He didn't. Diego just stood there, clutching at his waist and resisting the urge to let go. 

'You probably need to finish your art, huh?' 

The bricks really were cold. Now that the kiss had been broken, he realised how wet the wall was. His jacket was likely soaking through, and soon his shirt would be wet. They'd both catch a chill. 

'Yeah. I still have a few paintings to finish.' 

Diego couldn't help it. He kissed him again, because he _could_ , because neither of them had the foresight to make another weak excuse. Not yet. And if the snow were melting into his back, then Klaus was melting into his front, pressing against him so sweetly and firmly, and _God_ , his keys were somewhere in his pocket and he'd never find them at this rate. 

'I bet they take a while to dry, huh?' he managed to get out. 

'A while,' Klaus agreed. 

Diego's mouth had found the side of Klaus' jaw. The short stubble where he hadn't shaved that morning, the scruff of his goatee. He could hear the way Klaus sucked in his breath, the way he swallowed hard as Diego curled his fingers tighter. 

'I _could_ drive you home.' 

There was a hesitation there. He could taste it. The pulse under his tongue reaching a staccato, the catch in Klaus' breath as he sucked in a sharp breath. He wanted him, he _wanted_ him, and Diego hungered for it. But he could feel Klaus' mind turning it over, even now as he took a breath and his knees buckled, and he swooped down to kiss him one more time. 

'If you do, I won't be able to get out.' 

'And you need to finish your artwork.' 

And they both needed to breathe in the sharp winter air. Withdrawing his hands, shivering all over, both from the freezing air and the heat swelling under his collar, Diego finally let go. His hands slipped out, fingers immediately curling into his palms. 

'I'll, um...' 

'I'll work on the centrepiece for your screening. Showing. The gallery,' Diego said, managing to speak without his stutter, despite his nonsensical phrasing. 

With a shivering nod, Klaus took a step back. His eyes, usually so bright and vibrant, were dark, his pupils blown. It was difficult to not reach out and touch him, to haul him back in close. Somehow he resisted, despite the urge, the hunger, the heat flooding through his veins. He already knew what he'd be doing when he warmed up in the shower when he got inside. 

There was a move from Klaus, as though he were considering leaning back in and disregarding his statement. Somehow, though, he stepped back, scooped up the slightly crushed flowers from the asphalt and Diego let him, reaching for his keys in his coat pocket. His eyes remained on Klaus, as he wandered back down the alley, until he hit the corner and Diego felt like he could finally attempt to enter the building. Bright petals scattered the ground outside his door, a small pile not entirely forgotten as Diego locked the door behind him.


	21. [confirmation slip i]

**THE UMBRELLA ACADEMY**

_Inspire Greatness_

**

Thank you for your sale of twelve crates of sunflowers to The Umbrella Academy, received 7th December 2019. 

We at The Umbrella Academy are always looking to support both burgeoning and established artists in the greater city area. This purchase will help us in this quest. 

The flowers you have supplied will go towards the upcoming _Vier_ exhibit, which opens 15th December 2019. Please find enclosed further information about this exhibit, as well as upcoming exhibitions in the fall/winter collective. 

Once again, thank you for the flowers. 

**

_Respectfully yours,_

_Allison T._


	22. agrimony

It was easy to push aside how Diego spent the next few evenings to the back of his mind. As breathless as Klaus made him, how dizzying his mere presence could be, there was something that also lingered long after. Diego's heart would race in a way that was unfamiliar, his mind would whirl and fill with thoughts of him. He hadn't feel that exhilarated in what felt like years. 

He knew what it was. He wasn't a lovesick teenager, falling into the crazy world of romance and intrigue for the first time. He was a little jaded, a little tired, a little frustrated with the world around him. But the heady rush of falling head over heels for the first time still took over him, that hunger for more, _more_. He could still taste Klaus on his lips, could still feel him against his body, that gasping utterance against his mouth as Diego had hauled him in. Hell, he hadn't spent a good chunk of time rutting into his mattress for nothing. 

But he could still push it aside, if only because of a singular five-foot-two scrap of a boy who hadn't even learnt to shave yet. 

'This is a thorn stripper,' Diego said, holding up the tool. 'Not only does it remove the thorns, but it stops the water from being contaminated from bacteria. It makes the flowers last longer.' 

Five took the tool, turned it over, and picked up a flower awkwardly. Uncertainly, he held it up to the stem of the rose (try as he might, Diego hadn't been able to talk him out of it), and began to drag it down like a potato peeler. Breathing in hard to stop himself from laughing, he shook his head, clicked his tongue, and took both rose and tool. 

'Like this,' he said, as he clasped the stem between the cutters and dragged it down. 'Keep the leaves for the first third of the stem, but remove the rest. We can remove the topmost thorns in another way.' 

It had been a week since he and Klaus had gone out to lunch- amongst other events. Their texted conversations had remained surprisingly tame, albeit a touch flirtatious. However, as Diego had read back to earlier conversations, he realised there had always been a somewhat overt flirtatiousness to it all. It wasn't just on Klaus' end, either; reading his own messages back had him blushing with a mixture of shock at his audacity and his own ignorance. There were only so many ways to read about how he'd hogtie Klaus to a chair and teach him about all the different types of birds of paradise. 

For some reason, he kept expecting Five to call him out on it. There was no way he could know- not unless Klaus had told him, and Diego seriously doubted he'd do that. But there were times when Five, in that old soul manner of his, would look up and astound Diego with some kind of insight. He occasionally felt like he'd read his private childhood diaries, like his father once had. 

'Why can't I have red roses?' Five asked, setting down the third flower. 'Is it the cost?' 

'Red is overdone,' Diego replied, handing him another one. 'Delores is special, right? Unique? Pale pink is better. Pale pink is also young. It's innocent, without the overwrought meaning of white. Gentle, here, you're pushing into the stem.' 

The pink roses were going to be wrapped into a deep box with sprigs of white lilacs on a bed of lush, green fern leaves. Intertwined would be a collection of croci, to add the purple touch Five had spoken about before. It was a simple arrangement, and maybe not as dramatic and filled with flourish as the cliché of a dozen long stemmed red roses. But Diego had set Five the task of doing most of the work. The box Diego had selected would hold up well for the overnight trip, particularly if packed well in the chiller box. 

Once the thorns had been cut, Diego took the shears and showed Five how to cut the flowers on a sharp angle. 

'Hold them underwater like this, see? And you want to make a severe angle.' 

'Why?' 

'Why what?' 

The whole process went like that. At first, Diego thought it was some annoying, childish trait, where Five wanted to question everything. And that was definitely the case, but not to simply annoy Diego as he had initially assumed. Five was soaking it all up. Each piece of information was filed away, kept in his memory bank, along with trigonometric equations and an alphabetised list of presidents names. 

Five followed Diego's guidance, even when he couldn't give a clear response. As he cut away with the shears, Diego would pull up the answers to difficult questions on his phone ('cellular embolism. See? I told you it was science!'). As per Diego's suggestion, Five had sketched a design out ahead of time, a messy scribble of colours on a piece of paper that they tried to recreate. Diego couldn't help but wonder if Klaus had given some kind of suggestion, with his abstract impressionist artist's eye. 

Between his clients that Saturday morning, he and Five worked on the box. When Diego was occupied by weddings and proms and birthday gifts, Five cleaned up out the back, apparently not wanting to work on it without Diego's supervision. It was sweet and tugged on Diego's heart in a way that he hadn't been expecting. 

It was early afternoon by the time they finished. By this point, Five was nearly bouncing in his seat, a childlike enthusiasm thrumming through him, despite his attempts to squash it. 

'Here,' Diego said, handing him the box. 'I'll take a photo for you.' 

'Why?' Five asked, holding it awkwardly. 

'So you've got proof that you made it yourself.' 

'You helped.' 

'I gave you basic instructions. You did everything yourself. Now stand up, we won't get a good shot with you sitting like that.' 

Moving to his feet, Five held the lavender box up and gave one of his typical, closed-mouthed smiles. Peering up over his phone, Diego squinted at him. He lowered his phone half an inch 

'You can show your teeth, you know.' 

With an equal, judging squint, Five shook his head, one way and then the other. Cocking his head to the side, Diego leant forward, ever so slightly. 

'Why not?' he asked. 

Five shrugged. 'I don't like my teeth. Just take the photo. Delores is the model, not me.' 

And like that, Five showed he was in the throes of puberty, just as much as any of the other adolescent boys who entered Diego's store in an effort to win over the latest object of their affection. Five may have been a little more wise, a little more insightful than other teens his age, but he could be just as stubborn and frustrating to deal with. 

Trying his best to hold back a sigh, Diego lifted his phone and snapped a series of quick photos. Keeping his tight-lipped smile (even if it was wide and reached his eyes), Five held up the box. He may have been self-conscious about his teeth, but there was pride in his eyes. 

Once the photos had been sent off, Diego showed him how to prepare the box for delivery. It was wrapped in a chiller box, taped up tight within it, and a packing slip was printed out and left on top. 

'It will be picked up this afternoon,' he explained. 'And will arrive Monday.' 

Beaming, Five nodded and wiped his hands on his apron. Patting him firmly on the back, Diego gave him a small nudge to the stack of cards for him to choose from. 

As Five admired the photos on the phone, a bubbling question began to form itself in Diego's mouth. It was something he'd been fighting over the weeks, since the afternoon he had visited Klaus' apartment. He'd been trying to find the words to ask it, but every attempt had been thwarted. There were customers or phone calls, stock that needed to be put away, or, most frustratingly, Diego's own inability to work up the nerve to speak. 

'Hey,' he finally said, jerking his chin up. 'Can I ask you something?' 

'You can,' Five replied quickly, still admiring the flowers. 'And you may.' 

_God_ , the boy could be an asshole. Shaking his head, Diego jabbed his finger into his upper arm, just to see him scowl. 

'What made you come here?' he asked. 'The first time? I know your street, there's a heap of florists. Overpriced, yeah, but... a heap of 'em.' 

Five's eyes darted down. He'd been fussing over the different cards, no doubt trying to choose the perfect one for his paramour. 

'Klaus told me about this place,' he finally said. 

'Klaus?' Diego repeated. 

With a short nod, Five finally settled on a glittery, purple card. It was commonly used for either junior proms or birthday announcements. Lace rippled from it as he picked it up and turned it over. 

'He said you guys had done really nice pieces for- ' 

Five stopped himself abruptly. There was a heady pause, his eyes darting a little towards Diego. 

'He told me about Dave,' Diego finally said, letting Five off the hook. Clearing his throat, curling his tongue in his mouth, he tried to busy himself by neatening up the bench. 'He... he knew? We only did bouquets from friends. Nothing from the family or the funeral home.' 

Diego had been going through his records, reading back until he'd found the dates and pieces in question. He'd tried to forego the usual flowers- lilies, roses, even orchids. They were beautiful flowers, certainly, but the requests had all asked for something different. So he'd gone for golden gladioli, pink carnations, and an array of chrysanthemums. By and large he tried to avoid all kind of advertising material when it came to funeral pieces, too. While two had been delivered to the funeral home, one had been sent to Klaus' home. He supposed that must have been where he'd found the name of his store, in the packing slip. 

'He said your pieces had heart,' Five finally said. 'They were cheerful, I think he said. He was right.' 

Pausing, Diego allowed himself to smile, just a little. Hearing that Klaus had been livened a little during his time of grief was nice. Diego only ever wanted to brighten someone's day with his flowers. 

With a shrug, Five gave a small hum. He picked out an envelope to go with the card and turned a little, obviously a little uncomfortable with the conversation. Biting his tongue (a touch literally), Diego tried to make himself preoccupied with cleaning up. 

'Go wash your hands. I'll clean up. You've stayed back long enough.' 

'Yes, Mister Diego.' 

As he hurried off to the kitchenette, Diego went about sweeping up the counters. It was good to see him light up like that. Receiving a floral arrangement could fill someone with glee, but there was such a deep level of satisfaction that could be attained with making something, too. As he ran the handheld vacuum over the floor, sucking up the fallen petals and leaves, he thought he could hear the roller door to the stock room being opened. 

Jerking up, head turning to the doorway, Diego straightened up. Snatching the switchblade from the table, habit more than anything, he hurried out, moving quickly down the hallway. As he skidded to the stock room, knife at the ready, he spotted Five by the roller door, talking to someone. 

'Hey!' 

Five turned, looked at Diego, and then down at the knife he held. A mildly startled look crossed his face as he studied the knife. 

'What're you doing?' 

'The sunflowers,' Five explained as he took a few steps towards him. 'I told you I was having someone pick them up.' 

That _did_ sound like something Five had said. Racking his brain, Diego remembered the general gist of the conversation, if not the details. He'd been a little distracted, what with Klaus and all. 

Folding the blade back into the handle, Diego pocketed it, just as a woman appeared around the corner. Shorter than Five but just as slight, she glanced back at the truck that was noisily reversing down the alleyway. Trailing behind Five, she took her time approaching Diego. For a wild moment, he wondered if she was the mythical Delores. 

'Hi,' she said, waving with as much awkwardness as Diego felt. 'I'm Vanya.' 

'Diego.' 

She offered her hand. Diego didn't take it. After a beat, she curled her fingers back into her palm, the sleeves of her grey plaid shirt falling over her fingers. 

'I'm here to pick up twelve crates of sunflowers?' 

Diego turned to Five. He was already dragging the boxes out from under the tarp where they had been placed, Diego refusing to move anymore upstairs. His bedroom had already begun to lose its place as the last safe haven from the goddamn flowers. 

'Today?' Diego asked, not sure if he was relieved or stupefied. 

'I told you it would be after hours,' Five replied, as he snapped his fingers towards the cart. 

Relieved. Diego chose to go with relieved, even if he didn't quite appreciate the way Five had taken over the situation. 

'I know it's short notice,' Vanya said, following him. 'But Ben thought he had hired the truck for next weekend, but he got the dates confused. This was the only day we could do.' 

'Ben?' Diego repeated. The name rang a bell. Then, as it dawned on him, 'wait, dogwalker Ben?' 

And Vanya. Klaus had mentioned her once before, too. 

Vanya nodded. There wasn't an opportunity to ask any follow up questions as the boxes were piled up on the cart. Each crate was balanced precariously on top of the other, Diego careful to not have any of the boards crack or splinter, lest he wind up sweeping yellow petals and pollen for the rest of his Saturday. As he neared the truck, the engine still running and some kind of classical dubstep blasting, he tried to peer into the driver side window and mirror, only to find the cab apparently empty. 

It took longer than Diego expected. Five and Vanya were small, and Ben didn't seem to be getting out of the truck to help. As the last of the crates were loaded into the truck, Diego beginning to drip sweat despite the mild winter chill, he gave a quick, sweeping look over the stock room. Vanya had said twelve only, and despite his temptation to give her a few more for her troubles, he decided to hold back. Twelve boxes were already plenty. 

Grateful to have just gotten rid of some of the stock, he was startled to find himself faced with Vanya once more. She handed him an envelope, her cheeks flushed with exertion. Five was rolling the cart back into the stockroom. 

'Here, I was told to give you this.' 

'Who told you?' 

The sound of the back of the truck slamming shut blocked out Vanya's response. Looking up, he saw a shadow disappearing behind the truck. The truck rocked as someone climbed into the front seat and the cab door was slammed shut. 

Peeling open the envelope, he peered at the logo. There was an address underneath it. He recognised it as being close to his mother's house, though there was no indication about what it was. 

'What's an Umbrella Academy?' he asked, his nose screwing up a little at the name. It had just enough hipster twee to it to have him immediately repulsing a little. 

'The gallery Klaus is showing at.' 

'Do you work there?' 

Vanya screwed her nose up. 'Not really. You're coming next week, right?' 

Diego gave a grunt that was intended as an affirmative. Unfolding the letter, he found a cheque enclosed. It was made out at roughly the cost price of the sunflowers; all twelve crates had been effectively paid for. Sucking in a breath, he darted his head up, just as Vanya climbed into the passenger side of the cab. It was a little funny to watch, her short legs clambering up the steps to get inside. 

As the truck pulled away, Diego drifted back inside. The roller door closed behind, Five holding the button down. Stunned, he held the cheque up to him. 

'I owe you a milkshake.' 

Pondering the question, Five screwed up his face a little. 

'Can I have an affogato instead?' 

' _God_ , you really are something else, you know that?' 

Rolling his eyes, Diego deliberately mussed up the boy's hair. He wasn't quite ready to give a sigh of relief (after all, he still had more crates he needed to shift), but it was a start. Folding the letter back into the envelope, cheque enclosed, he went to place it in the safe to be banked on Monday. He'd shout Five two affogatos of he so wanted- so long as he didn't need to deal with his caffeine high after. 


	23. tulip

Diego had set aside a sizeable chunk of time the following Saturday morning to finish up the large centrepiece intended for Klaus' gallery opening, as well as time to make all his deliveries. It was difficult to not overbook his Saturday morning, especially so close to Christmas, but he wanted to give himself enough time to make sure it was all completed. Eudora wasn't able to come in that weekend, and Five couldn't assist. 

The centrepiece was far bigger than he had anticipated. Klaus had sent him an email emphasising sunflowers, which he was happy to follow. From there, it had just been a list of suggestions (some completely nonsensical, others completely against his brand- Diego was _not_ including orchids), and a list of possible colours. Woven between the sunflowers in the sprawling centrepiece were several pink tulips, while lilacs and mallow wrapped around the edges. Creeping throughout the basket that held the centrepiece was honeysuckle, the occasional blossom peeking out. Everything lay in a bed of oak leaves, smelling lush and strong, while fern leaves extended upwards. The fern leaves also happened to obscure most his vision when he picked it up. 

The sheer size of the centrepiece meant he had to drive it to the gallery. Although he had a faint idea of where the ridiculously-named gallery was, he still found himself getting lost. Parking was a nightmare, and he could only imagine how much worse it would be that evening. The only saving grace was the train station nearby. Grumbling to himself as he juggled the fifteen-pound centrepiece to the gallery up the pavement, he hoped that Klaus approved of it, as did the rest of the hoity-toity hipster types that were inevitably to be there that night. He had sent some photos to Klaus over the week, and although he apparently liked everything, Diego never felt all that secure until he received the same impression in person. 

A centrepiece of this size also typically required two people to move it. Five was too small and Eudora was busy and Diego wasn't about to pull her away from her prior commitments on her day off. He could manage on his own. 

'Here, let me help with that! ' 

A faceless voice came in his direction as he struggled forwards, his vision obscured by the large fern leaves. The load of the flowers was suddenly lightened as it was distributed over a second set of hands. 

'No, it's really fine, ' Diego said, obviously lying through his teeth. 'I've got- oh, wait, it's tipping down on your end.' 

'Gallery?' the voice asked, ignoring Diego's protest and instead following his instructions to even out the basket it was all contained in. 

'Uh. Yeah?' 

Trying to peer around the leaves and flowers, Diego only sat the side of a hand and a shoulder. The body in question had no problem walking backwards, even though he called out for somebody to grab the door. He announced the steps as they came, Diego still somehow managing to nearly trip over himself as he walked up. The gallery itself appeared to be closed to the public, despite a number of people milling about. Some were carrying in carts of covered canvases, white cloths protecting the delicate pieces of art. 

'Is this for the _Vier_ exhibit?' 

'The what?' Diego asked, as they entered the tall, black building. It was peculiarly ominous, and he couldn't help but wonder why such a hideous piece of architecture had been declared a gallery. Hipsters, _God_. 'Uh. It's for Klaus- ' 

'Yeah, the _Vier_ exhibit. It's in the front room. Here, mind the corner. He wants it at the back here, on the table.' 

The foyer was wide, with a concierge on the left and some modern art sculpture in the shape of a severe pyramid to the right balanced on its tip. In front of the entrance was a large wall, where twin archways opened up to an expansive room. Heading over, following the disembodied voice's directions, Diego stuck his head around one of the large sunflowers to look at the exhibit beyond. Some pictures were already hanging on the walls, all covered in cloths. Although Diego was trying to focus on not tripping over, he itched to pull back one of the pieces of fabric and peer underneath. 

'Up we go. One, two- ' 

The disembodied voice guided the centrepiece up and set it down on the table at the end of the room. Diego, still a little distracted with the hidden art, moved a beat too late. The centrepiece nearly toppled right over, and he caught it at the last minute. Holding it up and shifting it a good few inches back to the wall, he looked up just in time to find the person who had helped him disappearing through an archway at the end of the table and into another room. 

'Allison?' he was calling. 'You in here? It's Ben, the flowers arrived.' 

_Ben_. Goddamn. 

Taking a step to introduce himself, he was stopped by a gentle tap on his shoulder. 

'Excuse me, do you work here? I've got the desserts for tonight.' 

'Uh...' Turning around, Diego already began to shake his head. 'No, sorry, I'm just decorations.' 

A sweet, older looking woman faced him. The bright pink stitching on her black polo shirt read _Griddy's Doughnuts_ , while a badge underneath declared her name as Agnes. In front of her was a cart, lined with platters of doughnuts, profiteroles, and what appeared to be some kind of cinnamon roll. 

'I'll gladly take some off you, though. They look delicious.' 

'Oh, aren't you sweet,' Agnes teased, playfully squeezing his shoulder as she laughed. 

Diego guffawed, bashfully rubbing the back of his neck. He jerked his thumb in the direction Ben had disappeared, but before he could do much more, a tall, broad-shouldered man came into the room. Eyes widening, Diego's mouth fell open as he stared at the courier who seemed to be determined to make his life a living hell. Hazel-with-a-capital-E, dressed in a similar black-and-pink polo (though this time without the capital E) stared back at him, mid-step. 

'You.' 

' _You_ ,' Diego retorted. 

'Do you two know each other?' Agnes asked, looking back at Hazel. 

Diego scoffed. 

'He's the florist I've been telling you about,' Hazel said, far more calmly than Diego felt in that moment. 'The one with the sunflower mishap.' 

'Oh, so you tell _her_ , but not your damn _boss_?' 

Hazel visibly twitched at that. His lips twisted together, as though he were holding back several choice words. Diego almost wanted him to say them. He was gearing up for a fight, his fingers curling into his hands, quietly wishing he'd had half a mind to have brought his switchblade with him. Not that he was planning to use it, but damn would it be a good scare tactic. 

'She's my wife, I tell her everything.' 

'Oh.' 

Well. Maybe attempting to take down the six-foot-something man in front of his wife would be a bad idea. Diego had learnt that lesson in his youth and still had a scar to prove it. 

Visibly deflating, Diego's shoulders fell. Agnes petted his shoulder again as she lifted the lid to one of the trays with her other hand. 

'I've been telling Hazel that it's no place to work. They've been late with his pay twice now, and he's always moving those heavy boxes- and with that injury of his! Oh, Hazel, dear- ' 

' _Dear_.' Hazel's eyes darted to Diego, and for a moment they were locked in an awkward, mildly embarrassed staring match. 'He doesn't need to know.' 

Agnes, either choosing to ignore them or deliberately leaving them in an awkward position (Diego couldn't tell, and both were definitely possible), picked up a doughnut, wrapped it in a bright pink napkin, and handed it to Diego. 

'Here. For the road,' she said to him. Then, to Hazel, 'they told us the kitchen was at the back, wasn't it?' 

Stepping back behind the cart, she started off in the same direction Ben had headed down. For a beat, Diego continued to stare at Hazel, before he shrugged a shoulder and took a bite of the doughnut. It was sweet, tasting of strawberries and cream. Hazel nodded at him just the once, before heading in the direction his wife had gone. 

Chewing upon the sweet pastry, Diego approached one of the covered paintings. Taking hold of the corner of one of the pieces of fabric, he went to lift it. It felt a little devious, like he was peeking through his parent's wardrobe in search of Christmas presents, or perhaps pocketing a discounted pack of gum. 

'Diego! Hi!' 

Nearly jumping from his skin, he stumbled back. The cotton drifted back down, hiding the canvas. There was Vanya, wearing another bizarrely drab plaid print shirt. She was holding something in her hand; a strange looking case that he couldn't immediately identify. It didn't matter. His mind was otherwise preoccupied. Feeling like he'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, Diego cleared his throat and made a show of taking a second bite of the doughnut. 

'The flowers look beautiful.' 

Nodding, his mouth full of icing and dough, he threw her a thumbs up. 

'Klaus won't be here until this evening,' she went on, when it became clear Diego wasn't in a position to speak. 'But I'll let him know you dropped them off. Unless you were going to see him first?' 

There must have been something in his expression that had Vanya correcting herself. A wave of heat hit his cheeks half a breath later, and Diego compulsively shoved the rest of the doughnut in his mouth. 

'I'm seeing my mom,' he said around the dough, before wiping his mouth on the napkin and starting out. 'I'll be back tonight.' 

It wasn't until he was halfway to the car that Diego actually stopped to wonder if Klaus had even said anything about him. As exuberant and extroverted as he was, Klaus seemed almost as private as Diego was. He had taken his time, divulging about his husband. Although he wore the mementos around his neck, of Dave and his ongoing sobriety, he kept them hidden at all times. And while he did appear to have a wide circle of friends, he only ever spoke at length of Five (and, occasionally, Ben). The three of them all seemed to be tight-lipped individuals. 

But Vanya knew about him. Ben knew about him. Five must have spoken to the woman who ran this gallery, too. 

Really, though, Diego wasn't sure if he was actually bothered by the prospect of Klaus having told anyone about them. A little flustered, maybe. A little surprised. But... flattered, too, in a way. Cautiously optimistic, even if he had no idea where he and Klaus actually stood with one another. The kiss hadn't been mentioned since it had happened, despite the slue of text messages he and Klaus had exchanged over the past week. 

The rest of his afternoon was spent gathering his outfit for the evening and driving to his mother's for her to iron it. Like most adults his age, Diego had never quite gotten around to purchasing an iron. Grace, delighted for her son's presence (although she seemed baffled by the newest bouquet of sunflowers and the slim, long box he hurriedly hid in the refrigerator), gently reminded him the virtues of owning an iron, before running a hand over the shirt he had bought and going about taking care of the creases. He continued to dodge the questions about the reasons for attending this gallery opening, pretending the lunch she had heated up for him was simply hot and definitely not him avoiding the question, and played aloof when asked about the artist's name. 

She knew. Of course she knew. 

Her home, a tall, empty townhouse in a better part of town than his own, was two train stops away from the gallery. He spent the afternoon there, replacing washers in the faucets and cleaning out her washing machine. Although he was sure Grace could do it all herself, he wanted to feel useful. 

As he left, dressed in the starched and ironed collared navy blue shirt, she kissed his cheek and patted his chest. 

'My handsome boy.' 

' _Mom_.' 

'What? You look nice. Though I wish you'd shave.' 

It didn't matter that he was thirty. He still liked hearing that she thought he was handsome. Sure, she critiqued his choice of boots, but she knew not to chastise him too much over them. 

He walked to the train station, his coat zipped up against the cold wind. The sun had already set early, December bringing with it an early night. He could pick up his car afterwards, he decided, his thumb running over the keys in his pocket. The doors to the showing opened at seven, but Diego had decided a slightly delayed arrival time of seven-thirty might make him seem just a little more cool, calm and collected. He didn't want to come off as overly keen. 

If the building had seemed oppressive in the morning, it looked even more disconcerting at night. There was a strange marbling to the walls, catching the streetlights and fog in the evening air that caused the colours to warp and shift. Cocking his head to the side, catching the faint notes of a string quartet as the front doors opened, Diego wandered up. 

There was a carpet rolled from the front door, a soft purple that had Diego casting his eyes to the inky sky above. Between Five and Klaus, Diego didn't know who had the strongest obsession with that damn colour. But as he neared, he suddenly took in the scattering of bright yellow petals that had been tossed over it. Some had been blown away in the hint of a breeze that existed that night, down the pavement and towards the road. Bending, he picked one up and rubbed the waxiness between his fingers. 

Sunflowers. 

Looking up and down the road, Diego felt a little stunned by it. A couple nodded in his direction as they walked past, tittering a little to themselves at the petals as they entered the gallery. One of them picked up a handful and squeezed them between their fingers. Something was tapping at the peripheries of Diego's mind, but he chose to ignore them as he hurried to catch the door before it closed in his face. 

The music grew stronger as he entered. The lights to the foyer had been raised, the side doors to the wings of the gallery closed and lights off. A series of soft pastel lights had lit up the bizarre pyramid. Twin paths of sunflower petals led through the foyer. One went past the partitioning walls to the left archway that led into the gallery, where guests and patrons bustled about. The right went to the pyramid, where it turned into a tight spiral. Diego felt terribly, almost sickeningly, out of place. Straining to look about, wishing suddenly he'd put on a tie, he tried to unzip his coat only for it to get stuck on the material. 

'Name?' 

'Huh?' 

Diego whipped his head about. The zip wouldn't budge. A woman was smiling at him, standing behind the concierge desk. He hadn't even noticed her. Something about her was familiar, though he couldn't place from where. Curly hair, wide smile, a red dress that probably cost more than Diego's entire monthly income. 

'Name?' she repeated with a smile. 

'Diego,' he said, just as the zip released. 'Hargreeves.' 

She scanned down a list, scratched his name off, and then held her hand out for his coat. Shrugging out of it, he remembered to pull out the long box he had hidden inside and quickly revealed its contents to her. She gave a wide smile and thanked him, before insisting he enjoy the art. 

He didn't even know where to start. People were milling about, some holding champagne. As he took a few steps, he suddenly remembered his promise to Klaus about bringing a non-alcoholic beverage and cursed himself for forgetting. He only hoped his alternate gift would suffice. 

Somebody passed him a glass of champagne. Diego just nodded in automatic thanks, staring at the glass, before placing it down on another waiter's empty tray. The string quartet, positioned beside what Diego guessed was meant to be the entrance to the exhibition room, were playing something he vaguely recognised, and as he eyeballed the group, he spotted Vanya, playing a violin. That must have been what was in the case earlier. Her plaid shirt and drab jeans had been exchanged for a suit. Confidence radiated from her; it was funny how that happened when someone had something to hide behind. If Vanya had her violin, then Diego supposed he had his flowers. 

'Mister Diego!' 

Diego tried not to visibly relax too much when he heard Five. Turning to see the boy head up in a miniature version of a tuxedo, Diego gave him a fond smile. This most definitely wasn't Diego's scene, though Five seemed to blend in quite well. His severe side part had been combed out, his hair gelled out. He was a hipster in the making, and Diego wished he could do something to save his soul. 

'Look at you!' he said, biting his tongue at the last minute about calling him a young man. The boy was smiling, his teeth showing and all. 'You look smart.' 

'My shoes are pinching like a bitch.' 

'Hey!' Diego said, shooting a furtive glance about. 'Language.' 

Five laughed. He clapped Diego on the upper arm (yeah, Diego was definitely going to need to teach him how to loosen up) and shoved his hands in his pockets. 

'Is Eudora here?' 

Diego shook his head. She had to study, she said. But she had also made a promise to come check out the gallery when she had some free time during the week. Although Diego wasn't sure how well she'd fulfil that promise, he knew that her intentions were whole and pure. 

'My mom's here,' Five said before Diego had a chance to ask. 'I think she was hoping for some sort of bougie-style elbow rubbing, but this isn't really her scene.' 

As he spoke, Five jabbed his thumb behind himself. At first, Diego wasn't entirely sure who the hell he was talking about. Then, as Diego tried to not get caught staring, a harsh, white-blonde woman turned and fixed him with a stare that made something deep in his stomach curl and die. He gave his best, inoffensive smile, as well as a slight nod of his head. Looking over his shoulder, Five waved at her. 

'She thinks the dye job makes her look younger,' he said through a tight-lipped smile. 'Y'know, how white and grey dyed hair is super in right now? I just think it makes her look like a witch from a Disney movie.' 

'She's your mother,' Diego replied through a similar smile. 

'I wish I was adopted.' 

'I think she can hear us.' 

'It's the hair. She sucks souls out through it.' 

Diego didn't try to breathe until she had turned back around. Looking about for a waiter, he wished he had actually drunk the champagne when it had been to him. All there seemed to be on offer now were various patés on crostini. Taking a deep breath, he looked back about. He'd barely progressed into the gallery. 

'Have you looked at anything yet?' 

At Five's question, Diego shook his head. 

'It's really good. I think you'll like it.' 

With a slight nudge, Five pushed him in the direction of the archway and said he was going to find himself a soda while his mother was distracted. Taking that as his move to leave, Diego headed off. He waved at Vanya, nodded at Five's harsh looking mother, and went to peer at the first painting. 

The exhibition room was far busier than he'd expected. That morning it had seemed impossible to fill, but now it was bustling by a whole array of different people. Some, like Five, were in suits and ties. Others were dressed in wild and wacky clothes (rainbow, peculiarly, being the colours of choice, inexplicably in pompom variety). Only a few were like him, in business casual. None of it made him feel any better. 

All the coverings had been removed from the paintings. The table had been shifted, from the far end of the wall to just behind the partition. The sunflower trail formed a spiral on the ground, like Oz's yellow brick road. 

Holding the slim box to his chest, Diego approached what he supposed was the first painting. It was a splatter of grey, navy blue and deep purple paint on a white canvas. He stared at it. Waited. Hoped something would call out. Nothing. 

_God_. Abstract impressionism. This was going to be painful. 

Next painting. With a heavy sigh, Diego looked about. He couldn't see Klaus anywhere. Maybe he could potentially slip out. People had seen him, they could tell Klaus he'd been there. He'd make up a line that Klaus had totally just missed him, honest. 

The second painting was much like the first. White canvas, the same hues as before. Only instead of a splatter, this one seemed to have actual bush strokes. They trailed over the canvas, twisting and weaving over one another. There were still splatters laid over the top, though the hue seemed richer. It wasn't necessarily deeper or brighter, but it was more pigmented. Diego recognised it in the colours of plants that had been tended to well, as opposed to those that had been kept out of sunlight or had been over-watered. 

The first four canvases were all like that. At the end of the fourth, Diego looked about. It was only then that he realised that each set came in a group of four. Peering about, he took in the four walls of the exhibition room and counted sixteen paintings in total. 

Four squared. Cute. 

Diego remembered just enough to of his high school math classes to catch the joke. Sometimes he wished he hadn't skipped so much school to run with delinquents, but then he'd remember completely unnecessary facts such as that. 

Deciding the first set was too abstract for his impressionistic tendencies, Diego wandered to the next wall, where the table had originally been positioned. These four were arranged in a square, unlike the first set that was a line. Cocking his head to the side, he tried to study all four paintings. Each canvas had been painted a different colour, covering a whole gradient. A yellow, a purple, a navy and a green. Diego recognised them from the swatches that had been emailed to him the month before. Rocking onto his toes, he squinted at them, swearing he could see something deep in the paint. 

It was faint, but there. A shadow, really, as though the grey or off-white paint had been mixed with a soft contrasting colour. A flower. Big, stretching over the canvas. He could only see it when he turned his head in a certain way and the light hit the canvas just right. A sunflower. 

It wasn't just a sunflower, though. If Diego took several steps back and stood at an angle, he could see the sunflower stretching out over all four canvases. The petals melted into each canvas, crossing over. Although each painting could be viewed and admired on their own, there was something to be said about all four. Diego wasn't an artist (in his opinion of the word, though Klaus appeared to argue differently), but he could see the beauty in the complete set. 

The third wall was more impressionistic, less abstract. There were no sharp lines to clearly say what he was viewing, no horizon or landscape. But Diego could recognise the city at different times of day. Dawn, dusk, midday and midnight. Each canvas held a different time of day, each had an a change of weather. The dawn painting was clear skies, while the midday canvas held a rain shower. Dusk was snow, while midnight was impossible to tell. The buildings melted into the colour of the background sky, the drops of rain or snowflakes running everywhere as though he were seeing it through a large window. Maybe one of the windows of Klaus' apartment. 

Taking a step closer, looking about to ensure no one was about to stop him, Diego leant in towards the canvas covered in rain. The raindrops looked like they were lifting off the canvas. He could smell the paint, the varnish that coated it. Embedded deep in the blue and grey was a tiny fleck of yellow. His eyes locked on the vibrant, golden hue. If he ran his thumbnail under the paint, he was sure if he peeled it off it would be almost entirely yellow, only lightly dabbed in blue. 

As he leant back, he batted his eyelids. When his vision cleared, he could see the painting for what it truly was. It wasn't the city, caught in the midst of a rainstorm, but the city covered in a flurry of petals. Sunflowers rained down on the city he called his home. 

Each canvas was the same. Sunflowers for rain. Pink tulips for snow. Purple asters for stars. Daphnes streamed out with the dawn sun. 

Something hot ran over Diego's cheeks, just as a cold shiver ran down his neck and towards the small of his back. He needed to breathe but couldn't. His eyes fell back to the midday painting, certain he could see a familiar tree, a park bench. Scratching the back of his neck where he had begun to shiver, goosebumps prickling his skin, he looked at the ground in front of the last wall. 

It was the partition, between the entrance and the exhibition hall. The trail of sunflowers in the room had begun to get kicked aside and messed up from people walking on it. He had half a compulsion to grab a broom and begin sweeping it back in place, much as he would do in the store. It was a thought merely to distract himself. 

He could hear Klaus laughing. Someone was holding up a tray of champagne above the crowd and calling, 'Ben! Ben, put that down!'. The woman from the concierge desk was laughing and flirting with a man that Diego realised only a beat too late was Luther, and what the _hell_ was Luther doing _here_? 

All things to distract himself from the last wall. 

Somehow his legs moved. He carried himself to the last wall. In his hands, the box he held was beginning to crumple from how he squeezed it. The ribbon he had tied it with had grown limp. 

The centrepiece had been moved to sit under it. The flowers stretched up towards the canvases, fanning out in a semi-circle, like they were aching to touch it. Diego felt like that with Klaus, sometimes. He longed to reach out and touch him, and always fell just a little bit too short. Although he didn't think that was Klaus' intention with it all, _per se_ , Diego felt it was quite an astute observation. 

His eyes lifted from his flowers to the canvases on the wall. It took him a good few moments to understand what he was looking at. These paintings weren't quite as abstract as those that came before them. It was actually a lot easier to read, to view, to understand. 

It was his store. Like the wall it lay opposite, a collection of four different squares making one image, his store had been broken apart and put back together. He doubted anyone would recognise it unless they visited it frequently. 

Sunflowers lay everywhere. Bright bursts of yellow littered the squares with deep green leaves, standing out from the deep navy of the walls. They trailed over the images, like the spiralling petals on the ground behind him. Highlights were shown in soft purples. The bright yellow petals seemed to burst from the canvas, sitting atop the heavier blues, the shadows that were cast by the deep greens and rich purples. If he shut his eyes, he could see them on his eyelids. 

In the top right hand corner, he could see himself. Or, at least, an abstract impression of himself. The curve of his back in deep blue, his face bowed in concentration, tinted with a soft pinkish purple. In front of him lay a splash of yellow, a dollop of red, a line of silver. The bouquet he had hastily made for Klaus. 

'You came.' 

Diego turned his head just a fraction to the left. Klaus. Taking a deep, audible breath, he lifted his head and gave him a smile. 

'Of course.' 

Klaus was beaming. He also looked utterly ridiculous. The shirt was a mess of frills, the collar high and ruffled under his shin. Pearl buttons ran across the front, his sleeves fluttering like petals down to his wrists. It was quite possibly a woman's shirt. Diego had never cared much for fashion, but he was quite sure he'd never seen something like that on a man (or a woman, even). His pants were as tight as ever, and Diego was sure Klaus was wearing his nicest Converse sneakers. 

He looked completely mad. 

He looked like Klaus. 

Once more, Diego wasn't sure if he was over or under dressed. 

'I brought you something,' he said, holding out the crushed box. 'I forgot the sparkling grape juice, but I hope this makes up for it.' 

Taking a box, Klaus fluttered his lashes up at Diego. The ribbon had become knotted, and Klaus struggled to take it off the box. Peeling it away and lifting the lid, he pulled out a long, single-stemmed lavender rose. He lifted it out delicately, holding it like he was cradling some precious object. 

'Five is obsessed with roses,' Diego explained. 'And I ordered these, just in case I couldn't sway him with something a little different. But... I thought you might appreciate a purple rose. Especially now that I see...' 

He waved a hand about. Now it was Klaus' turn to blush. Holding the blossom to his nose, he continued to quietly watch Diego. A part of his mind was ticking away, and he realised he'd rendered Klaus speechless. It was probably the only time he'd ever get a chance to get a word in. 

It was that quiet dawning realisation that made his tongue grow immobile in his mouth. 

'You... you p... you painted me.' 

Klaus nodded. 'Is that a problem?' 

'No. No, I... no, I don't think so. I like it.' 

Diego shook his head. It wasn't. 

Taking the box from Klaus, he pulled the lid back a little further and revealed a boutonniere, tucked at the very top. It was a carefully trimmed lavender rose, wrapped in yellow. It didn't really match what Klaus was wearing, but he doubted it mattered. Once Klaus had nodded his permission, Diego carefully pinned it to his chest, feeling the ball chains under his shirt. His fingers lightly followed one of them down, his expression softening at the idea of Klaus still carrying the memories of his husband on, even now. 

'I'm still not sure I understand the technical aspects of abstract impressionism, but I think I get it a little more now.' 

It was easier to speak when he had something solid under his hands. Something steady, _real_. Someone like Klaus. 

His hand lingered over the shirt. Meeting his gaze, he felt Klaus' cool hand wrap around his own. The string quarter was playing something slow, the crowd had become a dim hum, and from somewhere in the entrance hall, someone was singing Ben's name in a chiding tone as a glass smashed. 

'Also,' Diego continued, 'why is Luther here?' 

'He was Allison's plus one.' 

The woman at the concierge. The celebutante who owned a gallery. The woman Luther had met. 

' _God_ , she's out of his league.' 

Klaus laughed. His fingers wrapped around Diego's just a hair tighter, his other hand gripping the box. The room was full, people were bustling and gushing about the art. Diego knew they couldn't stay like that forever. But, just for the moment, he took the moment to soak it in. The music faded, the laughter died down, and Diego held Klaus' hand in his own. 


	24. syrian mallow

Klaus spent the evening chatting to guests of the gallery. He introduced Diego, who trailed along, a little embarrassed but quietly delighted to have been invited into this bizarre work. Occasionally, Klaus would reach out and take hold of his fingers, looking over his shoulder to smile at him. He was the florist who had done the flowers for the centrepiece, he had provided the sunflower path, he was the inspiration for some of the pieces. Diego, his tongue immobile in his mouth and the muscles in his throat clenched tight, could only nod and smile, hoping his cheeks weren't as red as they felt. 

Most of the names were forgotten. Klaus introduced him to Allison properly. Luther, dressed in a suit that didn't quite fit at his shoulders, looked as awkward as Diego felt. They eyeballed each other, twin matching pursed lips on their faces as neither of them seemed to know who would break first. 

'Do you two know each other?' Allison asked. 

'We've beaten each other up a couple of times,' Diego said plainly, that the same time that Luther replied. 

'He stabbed me once.' 

There was a pause. 

'That was an accident,' Diego attempted to explain. 'You should know better than to take my sandwich.' 

It took some quick explaining, about the gym, the boxing sessions, their history together for Allison to accept there wasn't about to be a brawl in her gallery. But with the ice broken and the humour alleviating the tension, both Luther and Diego relaxed. Diego introduced him to Klaus, pleased the circumstances had changed, all too acutely aware that his hand was still being held. 

The string quartet took a break and Diego quietly surprised Klaus by already knowing Vanya's name. He felt he ought to apologise for his curt behaviour when she had been picking up the sunflowers, but he had no idea how to approach it. Instead, he complimented her playing, and she threw him a look he was all too familiar with- an unknowing on how to accept it, unaccustomed to compliments being freely given. She babbled a little about the music, and then asked if he was enjoying the evening. 

As the evening grew later, Five came up, looking tired and bored. His hair had begun to fall out of place, his suit a little crumpled. Diego was also pretty sure he'd managed to get his hands on some of the alcohol, as his nose and cheeks were a little rosier than they had been earlier. 

'I miss Delores,' he said quietly, swiping through his phone. 

'Oh, _mausebär_ ,' Klaus said softly, giving him a one-armed hug. 

'She likes your art,' he said, holding his phone up. 

Five had been taking photos of the artwork. Diego wasn't entirely sure if he was allowed to do that, but Klaus didn't seem all that fussed about it. Swiping through the photos on an app that Diego didn't recognise, he scanned his eyes over the messages that the apparent Delores had sent. They were a mess of emojis, acronyms and phrases he couldn't possibly begin to understand. It may as well have been another language. 

Diego wondered if he ought to tell Five's mother than her son needed to go home and sleep. She was chatting animatedly to someone, a hand waving about. Something about her harsh eyes and the scar that ran up her jaw rooted Diego to the spot. Five gave a loud yawn, rubbed his face, and Klaus went off to find his jacket and a quiet spot where he could sleep. 

As he did, Diego wandered back into the exhibition hall. He went back over the paintings, trying to study them the way he would a floral arrangement. It was difficult to tell how close he was permitted to get, if he was allowed to touch them or not. Tilting his head to the side, he looked over the thick, oily paint, the way it reached out from the canvas. They were like hydrangeas or hyacinths, flowers that demanded to be touched, to be caressed. He wondered what it would be like to watch Klaus paint, to see him at work, the way he had quietly watched Diego work on his own form of art. 

The night began to wrap up. Five left with his mother, half asleep and clutching his phone. Vanya packed up her violin and waved at them as she left. Luther was staying behind with Allison to help with clean up, hovering around her as though seeking her approval for cleaning up the tables. 

'Have you seen Ben?' Klaus asked suddenly. 'I never got to introduce you.' 

'Seen or met?' Diego asked quietly, musing over the difference. 

It had been raining while they had been inside. The night was glistening, the black asphalt lit up like the stars in the sky. Klaus had caught the train in (he couldn't drive or wouldn't drive, Diego wasn't sure which), and Diego offered to walk with him. It wasn't until they were heading down the stairs to the subway that he realised he'd left his car at his mother's house. Deciding he could go back in the morning to pick it up, he shrugged it off. Klaus' stop was five before his own. 

'Do you sell much, doing shows like this?' 

Diego was unsure if the question was inappropriate, but Klaus didn't seem to mind. 

'Sometimes. Usually I get commissions.' 

It was a world he was beginning to get an insight into. 

The lavender rose was still pinned to Klaus' shirt. The strange, blanket-like jacket was on again, the box slid into one of its many pockets. The long stemmed rose had been placed inside of it for safekeeping. Diego could show him how to press it so it dry out. As they stood beside one another, waiting for the train, their fingers found each other again. Klaus' fingertips were cold like ice, and Diego held onto them, trying to warm them up with his own hands. 

Despite being a Saturday night the train was fairly quiet. The rain and ice had kept people inside. Only a few commuters were on the train when they stepped on, asleep or drunk or seeking some kind of solace from the frosty winter night. 

Klaus stuck close to the door. He leant against the wall beside it, a hand lightly resting upon the handrail beside the glass partition that separated them from the seats. Standing opposite him, Diego took hold of one of the hanging straps. Klaus' head was resting against the wall, his eyes shut as he swayed side-to-side. Diego watched him, a finger stretched out to brush over the back of his hand. 

He was beautiful. His skin was a little flushed from the cold, his hair curled from the moisture in the air when they'd walked to the train station. 

'Thank you for inviting me,' Diego said softly. 

Klaus battered open his eyes. The green hue was richer, deeper. The corners of his lips tipped upwards and he turned his hand to capture Diego's. 

'Thank you for coming.' 

The train pulled up to the next station. The doors opened, but nobody stepped through to get on. It was quiet. Still. As the doors closed and the train moved away from the station, Diego leant in to kiss him. It was slow, steady. They were in public, despite the late hour, despite the uninterested patrons. But as the train sped along, Diego rocked in close to Klaus and pressed against him, their chests aligned. 

A soft gasp came from Klaus. Letting go of his hand, Diego reached out and took hold of his hip to keep him steady. Their noses brushed, cold despite the heat of the train. Klaus' mouth was warm and open against his own as he deepened the kiss, coaxing him ever closer. It was impossible to resist as Diego stepped closer, still gripping the strap to keep himself upright as the train bounced on the tracks. In turn, Klaus leant against the wall, his hand falling on Diego's hip to bring him in. 

There was a jostle from the train as it turned a corner. Bracing himself, he caught Klaus before he could teeter to the side. Stepping to the side, his fingers clutching at Diego's jacket, Klaus took a moment to catch his breath. His lips were pink, kiss-swollen and bruised. He was gorgeous and looking at him and Diego _wanted_ him. 

He didn't need to ask. Klaus tilted his chin up and kissed him again, ignorant as the trained slowed to the next station, the doors opening and bringing in a fresh gust of cold air. At some point, he'd let go of the handrail. Diego found his jacket being unzipped and a pair of frigid hands sliding inside to steal his warmth. If he'd had the brain capacity to say something, he would have. His thoughts had spiralled to an end, though, when he felt Klaus canting his hips against him, his thigh being slowly rutted against. 

A shiver danced up Diego's spine at the feeling of it. A rush of heat hit low in his belly, his mouth falling open, still, for just a breath. Klaus was making soft, small noises, a weak moan tinted with desperation. His fingers kept grabbing at his shirt, keeping him close. As the train rocked, so did Diego, pressing back against him. Shifting his weight to the ball of his foot, he lifted his hip up towards Klaus, providing him with better access. The stifled, needy noises came quicker, muted by each kiss. 

As the train pulled into the next station, Diego slid his hand past the opening of the ridiculous blanket-jacket and wrapped his arm around his waist. His hand came to rest on the small of his back, keeping him close as the doors opened. Despite their best efforts, they were being louder than Diego had anticipated. 

The doors closed. It was announced that the next station was Central. Klaus didn't notice, didn't care; his hands were roaming up Diego's shirt, tugging at it, whimpering against his mouth as he shuddered against him. Diego didn't want to let him go, not yet, even though he forced his grip to loosen just a little, just in case Klaus got off the train. 

He needn't have worried. Klaus made no indication of leaving, made no sign that he even cared. His hands slid over Diego's shoulders, open-mouthed kisses smearing over Diego's cheek and jaw, nipping at his beard before he found his mouth again. He was hard; Diego could feel it, the heat and pressure of his erection against his thigh, straining against his tight pants. His pants were always so tight, it was ridiculous and gorgeous and utterly sinful. But Diego didn't care right then, not when he was fighting his own erection in kind, grunting a little as the swing of the train had him rocking up against him in equal turn. 

The train pulled into the next station. The announcement was made for the next stop. Diego gave a soft groan, his lips stilling on the corner of Klaus' mouth. 

'This is me.' His voice was a whisper, thick with lust. 

Klaus took a breath. He was so close that Diego could feel it, the expansion of his lungs, the pull of his ribs. He hummed, a small acknowledgement, and very slowly let go. His hands trailed down Diego's front, over the buttons of his shirt, the curve of his hips. His fingertips danced over his body as he found the bottom of his jacket and pulled the zip together. Diego was still as Klaus did it up, making him look a touch more presentable. 

The train pulled into his stop. The doors opened. Reluctantly, almost painfully, Diego took a side step. He was breathing hard, his body tingling all over. He didn't want to leave Klaus, he didn't want the moment to end. 

The subway station was cold. Stepping out onto the platform, Diego closed his eyes and tried to hitch up his neat, black pants. He hitched them up, wondering if he dared to slip into the dingy, stinking bathroom to adjust himself so he didn't make a spectacle of himself if he ran into anyone when he was walking home. 

There was movement beside him. Klaus. His hand reached out as he took hold of Diego, stepping in closer. As the train pulled away, he pressed a kiss to his cheek. He was trying to keep his jacket closed with one hand. 

The walk home was made difficult, not just by their inability to keep their hands off one another, but by ice on the road. Klaus laughed and snickered, nearly falling over twice as he skidded along. Diego stuck to the walls, trying to help him as best he could without falling into a fit of laughter. He was sure people could hear him, but he didn't give them an iota of his attention as he listened to the bells of Klaus' laughter. 

By the time they reached the backdoor of the store, Diego was sure his hands were about to fall off. Klaus' teeth were chattering, his body shivering madly as Diego fumbled with his keys, unable to slide them cleanly in the lock. Bouncing up and down, a pair of slim arms wrapped around his middle, hugging him close until Diego pushed the door open. They fell inside, a mess of limbs. Slamming the door behind them, Diego shoved Klaus up against it and kissed him again. 

'I need you,' Klaus wheezed as Diego's mouth found the front of his throat. 'Please. I need you, Diego, _please_ \- ' 

He had never heard sweeter words. Shoving at the oversized jacket, he peeled it off Klaus' thin shoulders. Groping about, holding it back so Klaus could thread his arms out, he managed to toss it onto the hook at the back of the door. He could hear the flower box knocking about inside of it somewhere, in the deep, mysterious pockets. 

'Need you,' Diego echoed. 'Want you. _Klaus_ , I want you.' 

A high-pitched, needy noise came from Klaus. He'd been quiet on the train, and Diego only realised now how difficult that must have been for him. He melted against Diego's mouth, whimpering and whining as he groped about for Diego's hand. Wrapping his chilled fingers around his wrist, he guided it between his legs, where his erection had returned, hot and hard through his pants. 

' _Please_.' 

Diego couldn't deny him. Not when he was arching into his hand while pinned against the door, moaning under his mouth. He could feel every vibration of Klaus' throat under his tongue, every catch of breath, every groan as Diego squeezed his hand. 

The metal teeth of his fly was catching against Diego's hand, as did the top button. It was difficult to push it through the buttonhole, almost completely blind in the dark of the hallway. Spreading his fingers, he dragged his hand up and felt for the top of his zip. He teased it down, inch by inch, Klaus' hips squirming against his hand as he helped to alleviate the pressure. His hands were still wrapped around Diego's wrist, and when he reached the bottom of the zip, Klaus tugged his hand back up. 

'Touch me. Touch me, _please_.' 

Diego didn't need to be asked twice. He was already moving his hand up, dizzied by the heat of Klaus' erection, the way he cried out when Diego gripped him through his briefs. Even in the dim light, he could make out the ridiculously bright colours; pink and purple and orange, clashing together. 

'C'mon. Upstairs.' 

He needed to see him. He had to. Pulling his hand back, he threaded their fingers together and coaxed him upstairs. A crate of sunflowers were sitting at the base, and they both almost tripped over it, Diego laughing as Klaus nearly hit his head on the railing. 

'I could have died!' Klaus cried out as he landed on all fours on the stairs. 

'You'd make a very sexy ghost,' Diego teased as he helped him up, kissing him again. 

Diego lost his coat at the top of the stairs, his shirt somewhere in the small combined kitchen and dining area. Klaus kicked his left shoe off in the hallway outside the bathroom, his right in front of the bedroom. It was small, a bed shoved in one corner and running alongside a wall. A dresser, a wardrobe, a shelf lined with mementos and paraphernalia he had collected over the years. In the dead of night, it was cramped and difficult to move about in. 

The once neat and ironed shirt Diego had worn became creased and rumpled when it was tossed into the washing basket in the corner of his room. There was a squeal as Klaus spotted the piercing in his nipple, his fingers tugging at it and making Diego grunt desperately. 

'That's unfair,' he grunted, his hand shooting down to grip at Klaus' cock again. ' _Rude_.' 

'You'll get your own back.' 

Klaus' own shirt was a little more difficult to get off. 

'Where do you even find something like this?' Diego asked as he tried to figure out the buttons. 

'A thrift shop in Rotterdam.' 

'Of course.' 

Unable to figure out how to get the shirt off, Diego left it for Klaus. Falling on the bed, he went to take off his own shoes. Beside him, a crate of sunflowers smacked into his side. He'd been forced to take more and more upstairs, and he'd forgotten about them until now. The room was now forever stained the smell of flowers, strong and thick enough to become embedded in his clothes, his skin, his hair. 

He had left the blinds to his windows open. Light streamed in from the streetlamps outside. The rain on the window created a marbling effect, the light twisting through the room. Although Diego found it frustrating most nights, and sometimes even had sleep with an eye mask to completely block out the light, he was grateful for it now. As he looked up, his boots kicked off, he could take in Klaus. 

There were more tattoos than just those on his hands. His belly, his arms, one on his shoulder. The light was too dim to take them in clearly, but he could see the shape of them, the suggestion of them. He could also see he'd taken off his necklaces. He wanted to tell him he could keep them on if he so wished, he didn't have to discard them for his sake. 

He didn't get a chance to. The words were stolen from him as Klaus peeled off his tight pants and briefs. They were thrown off, legs inside out, tossed somewhere across the room. Sitting there, feeling like an idiot for being unable to find his voice, Diego found himself reaching for Klaus' bare hips. 

The tattoo on his belly danced above his navel. Diego kissed it, his tongue dipping down. He followed the line that extended to the thatch of hair, his cock brushing against the underside of his jaw. 

'Diego- ' Klaus gasped, wriggling in front of him. 'I- you need- you still- ' 

'Still what?' Diego teased. 

Looking up, he watched Klaus' face as he took hold of his cock. The skin was soft, despite him being hard. His fingers wrapped around it, stroking it once, just to feel it, just to see how Klaus reacted. His head was tipped back, his mouth open as he writhed. Diego could smell how aroused he was, the muskiness that permeated from him. It filled his senses as much as the sunflowers, creeping under his skin as he bowed his head and felt the brush of Klaus' cock against his jaw. 

With a groan, Klaus pulled away. Diego's hands were only momentarily empty as Klaus hurriedly pushed him back against the bed. The crate of sunflowers toppled over and spilled out over the bed, covering the duvet as Diego lay back. His pants were undone by Klaus and summarily pulled off, his boxers yanked down with them. Before they even had time to land, Klaus was crawling over him, kissing him from hip to navel to sternum to lips. 

'Want you,' he purred, as Diego's arms wrapped around him. 'Want you, _please_ , I want you.' 

As sweet and delicious as it would be to hear Klaus beg, Diego didn't have the strength to resist him. He kissed him hard, shuddering as he felt his erection slide against Klaus' own. His feet dragged over the bed, kicking Klaus' legs apart so he could heave him up. Keeping one arm snug around his waist, Diego reached back with his other one, pulling open the chest of drawers. There was lube somewhere in there. 

Noticing what he was doing, Klaus broke the kiss to push up onto his hands. Peering over, panting hard, he searched through the drawer. It was difficult to see in the minimal light coming through from outside, but Klaus eventually found the half-used bottle of lube. Diego thought he had a box of forgotten condoms somewhere in there, but he inwardly cringed as he considered they were likely out of date. 

'Here,' Klaus said, pushing the bottle into Diego's hand. 'I want you.' 

Blindly searching for the cap, Diego flicked it off with his thumb. The position was awkward, though, and he struggled to get a good angle on the bottle so he could slick his fingers up. Thankfully, Klaus seemed to take note. He sat up, one knee on either side of Diego's hips, and hauled him into a sitting position, too. 

'You didn't tell me you had tattoos,' he wheezed, right as he sucked on Diego's left collar bone. 

The sensation of Klaus' mouth right there, on the jut of bone and thin skin, had Diego shivering. A moan came from him, his fingers dripping with lube as he almost dropped the tube on the bed. Forcing the cap back on so it didn't drip everywhere, he tilted his head to the side, offering more of his shoulder and throat for him to suck upon. Instead, Klaus dipped his head further down, his tongue dragging over the ring that pierced his nipple. He tugged on it with his teeth, a sharp, delicious ripple chasing through Diego. 

'You can't just ask me a question and then do that.' 

'Good thing I wasn't asking a question, then, huh?' 

Point taken. 

His hand smeared down the underside of Klaus' cock. He cried out, loud and desperate, arching higher on his knees to offer more of himself. Diego was suddenly grateful for how quiet he had managed to be on the train. It had seemed loud at the time, but it was nothing compared to the croaking cry that came from Klaus now. 

As the quiver of anticipation ricocheted through Klaus, Diego moved his hand further back, between his legs to press against his hole. 

'How much do you want me?' 

'So much,' Klaus whispered. 'I wanted- I _hoped_... tonight, that maybe... that maybe...' 

'You thought I'd be so impressed by your artwork that I'd... that _we_ m... might...' 

As his stutter threatened to raise its ugly head now, Diego gave a grunt of frustration. 

'Something like that.' 

Klaus nodded and kissed him, though, saving him from any embarrassing mishaps. There was a faint click of the cap of lube, and soon Klaus' hand was running down his cock, slick and cool. It was Diego's turn to moan, only now realising how sorely untouched he had been, how desperate he was for it. 

His fingers pressed inside Klaus. He was tight, but there was enough give with his body that Diego wondered just how much Klaus had wanted this, how much he had hoped for it. The sheer heat had him moaning, particularly with the hand around his cock and Klaus' mouth back on the crook of his neck, sucking a mark there that he was sure would bruise. 

Two fingers twisted inside him, crooking a little as Klaus squeezed the head of his cock. One had squeezed Diego's shoulder, right where a thick scar slashed across his shoulder from an old wound, holding him steady, while the other dragged down, pulling back the foreskin of his cock as Klaus shuffled forward a little. His fingernails caught along the scar, pinching the thick tissue. 

'I can take it,' Klaus promised in his ear, his voice a whisper. 'Diego, _please_ , I need you.' 

Diego wasn't in a position to argue. As much as he wanted to take his time, to really have Klaus stretched out before him, accepting all Diego bestowed upon him, he was far too eager right now, and he just wanted to take what was offered. 

'Okay, baby,' he managed to get out, trying to stick with sounds he knew wouldn't send him in a loop. 'Up. Up, baby, I... I got you. Here, I... _God_ , you're hot- ' 

As Klaus shifted into position, his legs began to wrap around Diego's hips. Left then right, a hand bracing against the crate that had toppled over and was still leaning against Diego's hip. Shifting about, crossing his own legs so Klaus had a perch to sit upon, Diego splayed a hand over the small of his back. 

Klaus moved slowly. He waited until Diego had withdrawn his fingers, his hand gripping his hip tight, until he began to move. Slowly, down, inch by inch. The sheer heat of him had Diego crying out, his eyes shut tight. It had been long, _so_ long, since he'd been intimate with anyone, and Diego could scarcely believe it was happening. 

Apparently Klaus couldn't, either. As he sank down, taking Diego inch by inch, his shivered all over. Although Diego was holding him, he still shot an arm out to brace against the wall. His hand slid down, just as he accepted more of Diego's cock inside his body. His face burrowed into the crook of Diego's neck, moaning as his hips rolled. So much, so _hot_ , Diego could only hold him. 

There was a smack of something that was definitely not a hand on his back. It took a moment for Diego to realise Klaus had grabbed a handful of sunflowers. The stems scratched over his back, the petals teasing the nape of his neck. The smell of pollen was everywhere, mixing with the scent of sex as Klaus rocked on his lap. 

Their mouths met again, just as Klaus took him down to the root. Dazed from it all, Diego finally took hold of his erection again. His hand smeared over it, dragging up from his balls, tight against his body, over the vein that ran along the underside of his cock, all the way to the slit where precome beaded. Klaus still held the sunflowers, holding onto them as he moaned into Diego's mouth. His hips rolled up, sliding off his cock just a few inches, before he pushed himself down again. 

His skin was milky in the moonlight. His eyes were dark, his hair a mess of curls. As they broke to breathe, Diego stared up at him, at a loss for words. He was beautiful, ethereal and gorgeous. He kissed his jaw, the front of his throat, the dip between his collar bones. He could feel some of the sunflowers falling behind him, though Klaus still clutched one. 

He wasn't going to last much longer. There wasn't any doubt in Diego's mind. He'd been hungering for this for so long, and Klaus was all over him. His voice was high-pitched, cracking and whimpering as he continued to rock on his cock. 

'I got you,' he groaned, twisting his hand over the head of Klaus' cock. 'C'mon, baby. I got you.' 

Klaus nodded. His nails scratched over Diego's back, dragging the solitary sunflower up as he sank down. Diego's hand still moved, over and over. The desperate noises he made were only growing in intensity, until he finally gave a full-bodied shiver and cried out. 

'Diego,' he choked out, kissing him hard. 

Diego felt him come. His body tightened around his cock as he stilled. He moaned loud, filling Diego's mouth with the sound as he sucked upon his tongue. There was a twitch from his cock as he spilled over, hot and covering his hand. With a final roll of his hips, up and up until he sank down again, he coaxed Diego's own orgasm from him. He was so hot, so tight, and Diego couldn't hold back, couldn't resist him anymore. 

It might have been polite to ask if he was allowed to come inside Klaus, but Diego hadn't had a chance to ask (nor would he really have been able to, with Klaus kissing him the way he did). Pressing his hand into the small of his spine, he held him still, moaning deeply and chasing Klaus' mouth for more kisses. 

They were panting hard. Sweat covered their skin. Both were covered in petals and leaves, a slight layer of dirt from the flowers that hadn't been washed. With a grunt, Diego found the edge of the crate and heaved it off the bed, leaving a trail of sunflowers in its wake. Klaus' head bowed and pressed into the crook of his neck again, his shoulders shaking slightly. 

'Hey- ' 

'Don't move,' Klaus spluttered, interrupting him. 'Not yet. Can you... please, can you just... stay inside a little more?' 

There was something wet about his voice. Something thick and choking. As peculiar as the request was, Diego chose to honour it. He stroked Klaus' back as he softened, his eyes shutting as he danced his fingers up the vertebrae of his back and then down again. Over and over, until he heard Klaus sniff and lift his head. 

He'd been crying. Diego realised it a little belatedly, embarrassed he hadn't noticed at first. His cheeks were wet, his lashes stuck together as he wiped at his face. 

'I'm fine,' he said hurriedly, trying to look away. 'God, this is embarrassing. It's... it's just been a while, and you- you're the first since...' 

Since Dave. 

Stroking Klaus' back, Diego kissed his wet cheeks, his eyelids, between his brows. Continuing to hold him, he swept his thumb under both of his eyes, allowing Klaus to sniff until he had composed himself. As he did, he rocked onto his knees, letting Diego's softened cock slip from him, and eased back down on his thighs. 

Diego wriggled up the bed a little bit. Then, pushing the discarded sunflowers out of the way, he settled back. Laying down on the bed, over the flowers and messed blankets, Diego held him close. There was no need for Klaus to be ashamed; Diego understood. 


	25. carnation

Morning came slowly. Diego had always been an early riser, waking with the sun, even in summer. But that morning he took his time, stretching and yawning, an arm tossed over the warm body beside him. His muscles still ached from the night before, a delicious ache in his hips, a tender bruise on his throat where it had been sucked. 

There was a chill in the air. Diego could sense it, despite the blankets that had been piled high and his dozing bedmate. It kept him tucked underneath, holding on a little tighter as he dared to bat his eyes open. Sunlight streamed in through his open blinds and curtains. As his vision began to clear, he spotted snowflakes kissing the window, a slight layer of frost developing in the corners. There was the smell of ice in the air, sharp and tickling his nose, mixing with the sunflowers and the still faint layer of sex in the air. 

Despite his best efforts when he'd shaken out the blanket the night before, petals and leaves still danced over the bed. Some had fallen in Klaus hair, bright spots of yellow in the dark curls. A floral scent was embedded in his skin now, stronger than the soap Diego had washed him with in the shower that they had had afterwards. 

Sneaking a hand out, Diego began to pick out the petals from Klaus' hair. The cold bit at his skin, his fingertips freezing as he lay the petals down on the pillow beside his head. 

'What're you doing?' Klaus asked, voice thick with sleep. 

He rolled over to face him and the petals went slipping down, disappearing beneath the blankets and sheets. His heavy-lidded eyes attempted to fix on Diego, but he was much slower to wake. It seemed to take a great effort, as though he was still trapped in dreams and his gazing upon Diego were incidental. 

'Just enjoying the view,' Diego finally replied. 

The sentence seemed to take a while for Klaus to understand. Then he smiled, started to laugh and wound up yawning, and wriggled in for a closer hug. 

'S'cold.' 

'We don't have to get up yet.' 

Klaus grunted in approval. He nudged Diego onto his back and rested his head upon his chest. For a moment, Diego thought he was about to fall asleep until he found a very deliberate tug on his nipple piercing. Grunting a little, he squirmed under Klaus, who gave it another poke before stilling again. 

The room drew quiet. Outside, Diego could hear the snow falling, the sound of it lightly hitting his windows. He ran his fingers through Klaus' hair, combing through it as he turned his head to watch the snow fall. Under the blankets, he could feel Klaus tracing over his tattoos. The soft scratch of his nails, the cool press of his fingers. His hand stretched out over his ribs, following the wings that stretched out under his pectoral. The muscles twitched, slightly ticklish to the sensation. 

There was a tattoo on Klaus' arm. Diego could just make it out, the start of the lettering. It looked to be the name of some army combat team. Diego to a leap and guessed it must have been Dave's. One day he'd ask. One day he hoped Klaus would tell him more about him. How they'd met. Where they'd married. What he had been like. 

The dog tags had been put back on after the shower. As Diego had tried to sweep the sunflowers back into the crate, he'd spotted Klaus trying to surreptitiously slip them back over his neck. Putting the crate down, Diego had picked up the second chain with the sobriety chip and wedding ring, and had held it for him to put on. He could only begin to imagine the swirling emotions going through Klaus, but Diego didn't want him to feel like he had to avoid it. 

His fingers ran down, now, a little further, feeling the ball chain. His thumb ran underneath it, tracing the notches in his neck, before going back up. 

'Five mentioned you recommended me for flowers,' he said softly. 

Klaus shifted a little. His hand paused in its ministrations, splayed out along his ribcage. Then, stretching out, he held Diego a little closer. 

'I did.' There was another lengthy pause. Then, unprompted, 'Dave was always happy. He was always bright. He hated lilies, anyway. I got so many lilies. You didn't send any.' 

Scratching the back of Klaus' head, Diego turned it over. A lock of hair twisted around his finger. Catching it with his thumb, he tugged slightly, straightening it out, before letting it spring back in place. He'd never been good at this. Being booked to send flowers for funerals was so much easier than asking about it. 

'All I wanted was for someone to crack a joke,' Klaus continued quietly. 'To break the mood. To remind me it was going to be okay. And instead, all I got was white flowers. There were white flowers at our wedding, and then there were white flowers at the funeral, and... and you sent yellow.' 

Klaus lifted his head. He turned, his eyes falling upon Diego. His chin was perched on his chest, a day's growth of stubble on his cheeks. 

'So when Five asked... everywhere he went, he was being told roses. Red roses. Give your girlfriend red roses. Girls like red roses.' 

'He asked about those.' 

Klaus nodded. 'So I sent him to you. I figured, if you knew what to send then... you might know what to send now.' 

Diego's hand continued to brush through Klaus' hair. The bright, green eyes fluttered shut and he tilted his head towards his hand, sighing a little as he did so. With a slow breath, Klaus stretched up, reaching out to lightly kiss him. It was a little nervous, a little uncertain, until he sighed again, deeper and fuller, and relaxed atop him. Although the topic at hand was one that was no doubt tough for Klaus, he still spoke sweetly and fondly, with no regret. Even so, Diego felt a pang and a need to apologise. 

'I'm sorry for asking. If I brought anything up...' 

'You didn't,' Klaus said, shaking his head. 'It's... it hurt at the time. And I never forget that he's dead. I _know_ he's dead, and I miss him all the time. Sometimes I wish I could tell him about you. Is that weird?' 

Diego didn't know. Death was so strange for him. People sometimes expected him to miss his biological mother, though he had never known her. Grace had been his only mother for as long as he could remember, and he her only son. When his father had passed, he mourned for the father he could have been more than the man he was. It seemed as though Grace had wept for him more, though her tears had long dried. Sometimes Diego suspected she had cried for her lost years than the husband she had buried, though. 

A soft silence spread between them. Diego continued to comb his fingers through Klaus' hair, tucking curled locks behind his ears and pushing it off his brow. He could feel the kiss of metal against his skin, warming from the heat of their bodies. 

'What are you doing for Christmas?' Klaus asked. 

It took Diego half a beat to realise it was a week away. He thought of the holiday season in terms of his work schedule. The store would be open but on reduced hours. Eudora was visiting her family interstate. Five would be in to help clean up and pack orders in the first half of the week, though his mother was dragging him somewhere, much to his grief. 

Although Diego wasn't sure he wanted to admit it, Five's understanding of social media had been a real boon to the store. The number of orders that year meant they couldn't feasibly close without losing money. In the years gone by, it had been the reverse. Diego had deliveries right up until Christmas Eve, and he had another day packed solid before New Year's Eve. It was a spectacle, being so busy, and he was relishing it. 

'Seeing my mom, I guess, for lunch. She's always been more festive than me.' 

There was a small nod. Diego could feel Klaus watching him, the weight of something in the air. Swallowing hard, he traced the shell of Klaus' ear. 

'It might be a bit soon, but... would you like to come?' 

A pause. 

'Mom always makes this huge meal,' Diego said, feigning a casual air. 'There's always too much. It's usually a turkey or a ham. One year she did this turducken. It was... interesting. And there's always potatoes and carrots and usually some kind of rice or polenta.' 

'Just for the two of you?' 

'Yeah,' he said with a shrug. 'I always wind up taking half of it home with me. I mean, even if you didn't come, you'd probably wind up eating some of it.' 

'Huh,' Klaus said, with the same, quasi-casual feel. 'Well... I guess if I'll wind up eating leftovers, I should come along and try it fresh.' 

'Yeah, just so you can compare it.' 

'It'd be a tragedy not to.' 

'A huge one.' 

Diego made a decision to avoid telling his mother too far in advance for that reason. The amount of food that she would prepare (while insisting she enjoyed cooking and Diego shouldn't stop her) would feed a small army. If he let it out that he was inviting a guest, there was a real threat her dining table would break under the weight of the food. 

Besides, he didn't want to risk the possibility of the turducken coming back. 

As Christmas morning rolled around, there was a tightness in Diego's chest. A nervousness. It felt like a rush, inviting Klaus to lunch with his mother. Klaus didn't seem to have any family to speak of, and with Five away, he would otherwise apparently be on his own. But he was grinning and smiling, dressed up in a coat that looked like the wealthy cousin of his blanket-jacket. He had brought along a wrapped gift, and as he sat beside Diego in his car to be driven over, he waved at him to ignore it. 

'I'm a guest. It's polite.' 

Diego used it as an excuse to kiss him. 

The wafting smell of ham in the oven and burning wood in the fireplace came from the house when they pulled up. It had begun to snow again, but it wasn't the delicate, gentle flakes that had fallen a week earlier, but sharp and cold. He rushed Klaus up to the stoop, holding a bundle of poinsettias on top of his Christmas gift. He rang the doorbell, stomping his feet to warm them up. 

The door was thrown open, his mother standing there with a festive apron, her hair pinned high and off her neck. She was preparing to pull him in for a hug when she stopped, seeing Klaus. Diego could almost see her mind turning over, processing this unexpected and unusual set of events. Diego never brought a guest. It had taken him months to so much as introduce her to Eudora, and that had been by accident when he'd been taken to hospital after a nasty fall at the gym. This kind of spontaneity was weird for him. 

'Diego, dear?' 

Diego pause. She was smiling expectantly. Behind him, he could feel Klaus waiting, the anticipation in the air. 

His sexuality had never been something he'd struggled with, in the way he supposed he was meant to. He'd never sat down with his mother to talk about it, and instead used broad strokes to paint his ideal future- a relationship with _someone_ as opposed to a _wife_. A life with _anyone_ as opposed to a _woman_. Grace hadn't cottoned on at first, referring to his future _shes_ and _hers_. He couldn't recall a turning point, though, but when his relationship with Eudora had dissolved, Grace had quietly begun to copy Diego's language. It had warmed his heart then, but as he stood there on the doorway, he wished he'd laid it bare long ago. 

Reaching back, he groped for Klaus' hand. 

'Mom, this is... this is... this...' 

Not now. Not _now_. Diego swallowed hard, audibly clearing his throat, and gave a sniff. He'd always hated it when people interrupted him, guessed the end of his sentence, started talking over him, but he suddenly wished somebody would. Damn their politeness, damn their cordial nature. 

'This is the painter,' he finally said, choosing to skip over the hard consonant. 'The one you told me to shave for.' 

Grace's eyebrows lifted. It was still snowing, and Diego's inability to spit out Klaus' name was going to make them all freeze to death. She opened the door a little wider, and the simple action, the acceptance, took the weight off of him. 

'Klaus. This is Klaus.' 

'You boys must be freezing,' she said. 'Come in. There's hot cider on the stove.' 

Stepping into the warm house, his breath spilling from him in a rush, Diego began to peel off his coat. He could hear Klaus making his apologies about his inability to drink, but Grace just twittered as she took his coat, saying, 'I never said it was alcoholic, darling, but I can fix you something else'. 

People were forever surprised by the woman Diego called Mom. Her alabaster skin and blonde hair didn't match Diego's darker features. She was young, only in her mid-fifties; time had been kind to her, too, and despite the occasional moment of her pulling out a pair of thin, wiry glasses, like the ones she wore to read the Christmas card Diego had given her, she looked much as she had at his middle school graduation. 

She lightly chided both of them for bringing her Christmas gifts. Apologies were given to Klaus for the lack of a gift due to his unexpected presence, but he asked if he could take an extra serving of potatoes home with him. Diego just smiled behind his hand knitted scarf, as he knew the request for an extra serving would mean a week's worth of food would be thrust at him after lunch. 

Diego had already told Klaus well in advance what he had planned to give her for Christmas. She was a lover of art, but always had an excuse as to why she couldn't take it up herself. She was so busy, with the daycare she ran, or the repairs needed around the house, or she didn't know the first thing about art and it was too late for a woman her age to start. Klaus had given Diego some pointers on local community college art classes, all intended for a someone Grace's age. 

In turn, Klaus gave her one of his paintings. It looked like it belonged in the _Vier_ exhibit he had done. The painting, done in a soft mix of purple and blue hues, was of a skyline at dusk. Diego thought it was referred to as the blue hour. It wasn't just any skyline, though; Diego recognised the peaks of his own store, the windows of his bedroom catching the light. Grace spotted it, too, gasping a little as she held the canvas up to the light. As with his other paintings, there was a faint imprint of a flower cast in the image, differing shades that made up the petals. 

'Oh, aren't you talented,' Grace gushed, hurrying off to find the perfect place for it. 

'You know that's going on top of the mantelpiece,' Diego said, leaning over to mutter in Klaus' ear. 'She's probably moving all my flowers now, just to make sure it's got pride of place.' 

Although Klaus tried to play it cool, Diego could see the flustered, albeit proud, smile on his lips. 

When Grace returned, looking as flustered as she ever did (which meant she looked mostly the same, only Diego noted her hair was slightly less neat than it had been originally), she was carrying a long, white-and-pink scarf. 

'This was going to be a gift for Diego, but I thought you might like it, Klaus, dear,' she said, as she sat down beside him and draped it around his neck. 'Diego says he doesn't do pink or white.' 

Klaus made a sound that sounded faintly like a choking duck and beamed. Diego hid his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking as he laughed. 

As the afternoon stretched into early evening and Klaus excused himself to the bathroom, Diego found himself alone with his mother. He was rinsing off the dishes and putting them all in the dishwasher. Any attempts to have his mother sit down and relax were ignored; he could see her eyeing off the Tupperware and deciding which one would hold the most for Klaus. 

Picking up the casserole dish, he ran it under the faucet. Steam came rising up, the hot water almost scalding. He needed it, though, something sharp and real to ground him as he ran the sponge over it. The dish wouldn't fit in the dishwasher, and Grace would likely have a conniption if he decided to put it in there. 

'I really like him, Mom.' 

Beside him, he saw Grace pause as she unclasped the lid of the plastic container. Looking over at her, twin rosy circles appearing on his cheeks, he offered her a lopsided smile. Her hand fell to her chest, a ring of pearls wrapped around her delicate wrist. 

'I know, Diego.' 

Despite his soapy hands, she reached out and pulled him into a hug. Trying his best to avoid making her dress wet, Diego gave a small laugh, hating himself for daring to let his guard down, even just a little bit. Keeping his hands out straight behind her, water dripping on the tiles, Diego shut his eyes and let him relax into his mother's arms. She approved, and that was all that mattered. 

'Oh, bless the sight of you,' Klaus cooed as he emerged. 'Is this a group hug? Can I get in on it?' 

Still blushing, Diego nodded. 

Both of them were sent on their way with enough food to kept them fed for several days. Sure, Diego was already going to be seeing his mother in a few days, but she still made sure he wouldn't go hungry in that time. Klaus, as he had requested, had an extra serving of potatoes. He actually had more than he quite knew what to do with and seemed confused as to how much Grace thought he was going to eat. 

Diego drove him home, his hands clutched around the wheel. His heart still fluttered, his eyes fixed forward. Klaus kept playing with his scarf, brushing the tail of it over his face, white-and-pink wool catching over his beard and brushing over his nose. They came to a still at a set of lights, the windows red from the refraction of break lights in front of them. 

He looked over. Klaus was already watching him, wool twisted around his fingers. Letting go of the steering wheel with one hand, Diego reached out. Dropping the scarf, Klaus reached down and folded his fingers around Diego's. Their hands moved to rest upon the centre console. 

There was a breath. A pause. 

The break lights lifted. The cars in front drove off. 

Turning back to the road, Diego followed them, holding Klaus' hand the whole time. The erratic beating of his heart began to settle as he took a deep breath and felt a swipe of Klaus' thumb over his knuckles. Although all of this was still so new and so fresh, Diego felt as though maybe, just perhaps, he could let himself relax. 


	26. [packing slip v]

Invoice Number: 4188GA-3 

Date: February 19th 2020 

*

_Graceful Arrangements_

c/o 

Diego Hargreeves 

*

Thank you for your purchase! 

Please check that all items listed below have been received and agree with your order. Please report any discrepancies noted immediately to our customer service centre. 

There are no exchanges for insect damage, nor any exchanges for frost between December 1st and March 1st. 

_We will no longer be accepting returns for uninvoiced items._

*

**ITEMS SHIPPED**

_Aster amellus_

[XXX] 

_Iris_

_-limniris_

_-scorpiris_

_-belamcanda_

  


[XXX] 

_Hydraganea serratifolia_

*

Thank you for your purchase! 


	27. gladiolus

It was only a few short weeks into the new year when Eudora received confirmation that she had been accepted as a police recruit. She came bursting into the store, clutching her phone in one hand with the email pulled up. Diego was elbow deep in a pot he was preparing for a client, while Five was on the phone and finalising the booking of an appointment for a client. With neither of them immediately able to speak to her, she stood there, bouncing from foot to foot, looking like she might explode with glee at any moment. 

As soon as they were free, Eudora thrust her phone at them so the two of them could read the email. Five held the phone as Diego wiped the dirt from his hands. She would be required to start at the police training academy within two weeks, if she chose to accept the offer. With the holiday period causing a delay in the acceptance letters being sent out, it meant she didn't have much time to think it over. It also meant she didn't have much time help Diego find a new staff member for the store. 

Diego didn't let her linger on that idea. She had to accept the offer. It had been both their dreams for years, and now Eudora had a chance to fulfil it for both of them. 

'I can see if they'll postpone it until the summer,' she tried saying, gesturing about. 'The store is busy. We can hire someone new, I'll train them up.' 

'Eudora,' Diego said, waving a hand. Then, when she gave a noise of reluctance, he pulled out his old nickname for her. 'Patches.' 

'Sunny Dee.' 

Diego winced. Five made an entirely rude sound that Diego knew he was going to be hearing that nickname more often than he cared for. Gritting his teeth, deciding he'd deal with that monstrosity later, he took hold of Eudora's hand and squeezed it. 

'I'm going to be seeing you in the police blues in six months. Got it? It's winter. The store is always quieter in winter. We will be fine.' 

He knew she had already mentally accepted the offer. She just needed the final push. 

Five, though, was curious as to why Diego wasn't following the same goal and had instead chosen a far quieter path. As the days passed and Eudora had handed in her formal resignation, he began to needle the question a little more. Diego dodged and weaved around it, much as he did at the gym when sparring with Luther. Finally, he flat asked while piling up a display for sunflowers. 

'Apparently the police prefer it if you haven't been stabbed.' 

'You've been stabbed?' Five asked, wide-eyed. 

Diego shrugged. 

'Who? _Why_?' 

Diego just smiled, ruffled Five's hair, and went about setting up the pre-spring display. It was more fun to see the boy puzzling over the unknown universe than to answer his questions. 

'Have _you_ stabbed someone?' Five went on, his eyes widening in macabre delight as he grabbed a fresh bundle of sunflowers. 'Was it totally gross? Was there, like, blood and _blergh_ , and did someone run around and- ' 

Five went off on that tangent, his eyes lit up in a feverish, adolescent glee. While his interest in horror and gore was perhaps a little concerning, Diego didn't think he needed to worry all that much about the young boy making the mistakes Diego had in his teen years. 

Between advertising for a new part-time clerk and calling up the main office for his stockist, Diego also began to submit applications to have the alley-facing wall painted. He had Klaus draw up a series of sketches and potential designs. They'd sit together behind the counter, hands clasped underneath, as Diego went about filling in the forms. More than a couple of times, Klaus had implied he knew some people who might fit the roll Diego was advertising, but then he'd get lost in a new idea to paint on the wall and his suggestions would be forgotten. Diego just trusted that he would find a suitable candidate soon enough. There was still some time before Easter, which was when the schedule would become mad once again. 

Besides, Diego didn't want to hire anyone else. Not yet. 

Neither of them had yet figured out how to address it with Five. Diego wasn't even particularly sure if they needed to. It felt like the right thing to do, but it also felt a little ridiculous. They were grown adults in an adult relationship. Sure, they both had a preexisting relationship with Five, but neither of them were his father. They both just had a keen interest in his well-being. Even so, Diego began to suspect that they were starting to get found out, especially when he'd come in for his afternoon shift and find them with their heads bowed, laughing over one private joke or another. 

It was late February. Eudora had been at the police academy for a month. Diego was waiting to hear back from the local city council about his request. Klaus, deciding that he didn't need to wait for pesky things like city approval and rubber stamps, had begun to buy tins of paint. He was showing Diego various paint chips on the front desk. 

'So I was thinking this robin's egg blue, but it might be a bit of an eyesore, especially with the sun setting behind it,' he said, to which Diego just nodded. 'But then I saw this one- ' 

Klaus' words were cut off by the front door being flung open. The chimes rang out, erratic and noisy, and for half a second, Diego thought they were going to be flung right off. 

Five ran in, skittering about as he leapt up to the front desk and slammed his hands down on it. 

'Shit!' Diego cried out, half expecting Five's mother to come in barrelling after him. 

'Delores is coming!' the boy cried out, smacking his hands down again when Diego dared to gesture to the door that was still ajar. 

'What?' 

'Delores! She's coming!' 

' _Now_?' 

The look he was thrown was one of utter confusion, which was utterly ridiculous as Diego had no idea what was going on. Taking Diego's gesture as one of greater importance, Klaus slid off the stool beside him and went to close the door, freeing it from the giant fern that was wedging it open. 

'No!' Five said, shaking his head. 'She just told me. Next month, she's coming next month. Her parents are taking her for some medical checkup... _thing_ , and she's coming, she's _coming_.' 

Approaching from behind, Klaus looked up at Diego. Meeting his eyes, Diego nodded slowly and slowly pushed the paint chips aside, glad to have a reason to no longer wonder if he were truly colour blind, as _Frivolous T10 470-C_ and _Fantasy T10_ _471-C_ looked exactly the same to him. 

'That's good, right?' Diego asked carefully. 

Wrong question. 

A dramatic, toe-curling groan came from Five. He threw himself dramatically against the counter, Klaus sweeping an arm around his middle to keep him upright. 

'I already asked her to the school dance.' 

_Oh_. 

Covering his mouth with a hand, ever so glad he had left high school (and/or middle school) and no longer had to suffer such terrible things as a school dance, Diego stood and continued sweeping the paint chips into the plastic bag they had come in. Klaus guided Five around the counter and sat him down, fussing with the school blazer so it was neat. 

'Is it some kind of spring fling?' 

' _No_ ,' Five spat out. Then, huffing to himself, 'that's what the girls are calling it.' 

'Are you going to wear some kind of mini tuxedo?' Klaus continued to tease. 

' _No_!' 

'Do you want to give her a corsage?' Diego tried. 

Five's eyes darted to him as he no doubt analysed the question for some kind of jab or jibe. When none could be readily found, he nodded. Glad to have appeased the raging teenage hormones, Diego reached under the counter and pulled out the album of corsages he had made in the past. 

'Purple are towards the back,' he said, knowing just what Five would be looking for. 

A deep, furrowed V formed between Five's eyebrows as he studied the book. Flicking through the pages, he began looking over the different options. Diego knew he didn't need to insist on _no roses_ (although, if asked, he might begrudgingly agree, as Five had been so happy to have roses last time). As he cleaned up the counter, he looked over at Klaus, who had a fond expression on his face, much like a father watching his son. Pride radiated from him, particularly when Five shifted in his seat and pushed the album towards him to ask his input. 

After that point, it seemed both he and Klaus had forgotten to tell Five about their relationship. It had felt so pressing at the start of the year, but now the urgency had gone. Although Five hadn't said anything or even asked, he seemed to have accepted the shift. He'd enter the store and ask if Diego had seen Klaus. Or, at other times, he'd barge into Klaus' apartment (apparently Klaus had had a key cut for him, for when his mother had locked him out again and Diego wasn't home) and flop down beside Diego on the couch with a bowl of cereal. 

The dance was in the second week of March. Five insisted they couldn't call it a _spring fling_ , as that was only for girls. Diego and Klaus, in turn, only called it a spring fling. Five would roll his eyes and groan, grabbing at his hair until he, too, slipped up and called it the same thing. 

He already had a suit, but Klaus insisted on taking him shopping. Although Diego's mind filled with horrific, sparkly gold shirts or glittered ties, they instead came back with a deep plum shirt that could pass for black in dim light, and a silver tie ('at his insistence,' Klaus whispered in his ear afterwards). Although Diego had assumed the polite thing to do would be for Five to pick Delores up at the hotel she and her parents were staying at, Five said something about her being a 'modern day feminist' and then, hurriedly and quietly, 'her father would rather chaperone us.' 

Diego still wasn't sure she was real. After all this, he wasn't entirely convinced. Not yet. He couldn't say why. He just wouldn't believe she existed until he saw her for himself. 

The second Saturday in March came hurrying up. Five's mother was away again, and he decided instead to get dressed at Klaus' apartment. As he did, Diego laid out the corsage and boutonniere. Five had settled on delphiniums for both; an unusual choice, but it made a gorgeous pattern in the twisting lavender and white design. Twirling it between his fingers, he felt a brush of fingers on the back of his neck as Klaus draped himself over the couch where he sat. There was a fresh vase of sunflowers on the coffee table, which lit up the living room. 

'I want to see my little boy!' he called towards the corridor, a sing-song tone to his voice. 

As Five emerged from the bathroom, Klaus clucked his tongue. Snapping his fingers, he motioned the boy over and shook his head. Five had stuck with his severe side part, as usual. Klaus combed his hands through it, pushing it off his brow and mussing it up. 

'Hey!' Five started to protest. 

Klaus ignored him, ruffling up his hair until it standing up a little. 

'No son of mine is going to look like an old man.' 

'I'm not your son!' Five tried to argue. 

There was a laugh in his voice, though. Diego could hear it, as he snapped a quick photo with his phone of Klaus mushing up Five's cheeks. The laughter grew and Five smacked at Klaus' hands, playfully fighting him. It was rare to see him relax this much, to let loose and laugh and act his age. Perhaps he was more excited by the _spring fling_ than he let on- or, maybe, it was nerves. 

He was still laughing when the doorbell chimed. The smile froze on his face. Klaus looked up, a catch in his breath as he looked up at the door. Diego lowered his phone. 

Silence spread through the apartment. 

'Is that her?' Diego asked quietly. He stood up and rounded the couch. 

'Shit, that's her. Hide!' Five said, pushing Klaus towards Diego. 

'Hide?' Klaus asked, right as a cushion from the couch was thrown at him by Five. 'Why- _hey_ , this is my apartment!' 

'Just- go hide in the kitchen, okay? Or- or the balcony. Go stand in the toilet. Just- just _go_.' 

The doorbell buzzed again. Still holding the cushion, baffled by the turn of events, Klaus allowed Diego to guide him towards the kitchen, where they could hide up in the corner. The open planning of the apartment meant they could still peer into the living room and hear what was happening. So, too, would Five and Delores be able to see them if they stepped closer towards the kitchen. 

Diego covered Klaus' mouth with his hand. The bright green eyes stared at him, filled with mirth and delight. 

The front door was opened. Diego waited. He could hear Five's nervous laughter, a quiet ' _hey_ ' as he let her in. 

'Is your dad coming up?' he asked. Then, quickly, 'you look nice- I meant to say that first, you look nice.' 

Although there was a faint, murmuring reply, Diego couldn't catch any of the words. 

'I like your dress,' Five continued on, stumbling over his words. 'It's really sparkly. I tried to find a tie with sequins, but Klaus said it might make me look like a clown.' 

Diego pushed his mouth against Klaus' shoulder as he tried not to laugh. He never wanted to live his pubescent years again. He was shaking as he tried to avoid making any noise. His teeth sunk into Klaus' shoulder and he was batted with the cushion as Klaus tried to have him shift off. 

'You're making a ruckus,' Klaus hissed at him behind his hand. 

'I'm not- ' 

'Do you want something to drink?' Five was asking as he approached the kitchen. 'I'll- what the hell?' 

Five stood at the edge of the kitchen. The position would have been considered compromising, if the circumstances were different. Diego had Klaus cornered against the fridge, while Klaus was trying to nudge him away with his leg wrapped around Diego's hips. To be fair, Diego wasn't entirely sure how that was meant to work. The cushion was pressed between them. 

Thinking quickly, Klaus reached for the counter. He grabbed a bottle of vinegard and held it out for Five to take. Baffled, Five stared up at them and shook his head. 

Beside him, a curious, wide-eyed girl appeared around the corner. The first thing Diego noted was that she appeared to be significantly taller than Five. She stared at the pair of them, her blue eyes widely spaced apart. Klaus lowered his leg and dropped the cushion. Diego relinquished the hold over his mouth and waved her left hand. 

The girl stepped around Five. She was definitely a good few inches taller, even in flat shoes. Her hair, shaved on one side, was a wispy blonde that she kept tucking behind an ear with her left hand. Her eyes darted to Five and then back up to both Diego and Klaus once more. Her dress was covered in sequins with simple spaghetti straps that never seemed to go out of fashion for middle school and junior high dances. A thin shawl was draped over her shoulders, which she kept tugging up her arms. Diego was sure even Eudora had worn something similar to their high school prom a good thirteen years ago. He was equal amounts impressed and horrified that fashion had never changed. 

She was still standing slightly behind Five. Five took a sidestep, hesitated a moment, and then held out his hand. 

'Delores, this is Klaus and Diego. They're my, uh...' He squinted as he studied them. 'You know Klaus, and Diego runs the store.' 

'We have more to drink than vinegar,' Klaus said, pointedly putting the bottle down on the counter. 

The unexpected statement had Delores laughing. She covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes growing wide as she snorted. It was only then that Diego noticed the bionic arm that extended down from her right shoulder, the fingers twitching a little as she giggled. Although Five seemed more than a little embarrassed by Klaus and Diego, he seemed pleased that Delores hadn't left. 

Klaus finally lowered his leg. Diego stepped back. The cushion fell to the tiled floor. 

'Five made you a corsage,' he finally said, catching himself before he was caught staring. 'He picked out the flowers. The ribbon.' 

Delores furrowed her brow. She mouthed the nickname and turned to Five. He was sighing, his cheeks bright red as he waved his hands and went to collect the flowers. 

'It's a thing,' he said, explaining to her as she quietly pried. 'Please don't- here, see? Diego showed me how to make these.' 

Reading this to mean that he and Klaus were no longer banned to the kitchen, Diego slowly crept out. Five had led Delores to the couch. Their heads were bowed together, as Five took the corsage and loosened the ribbon on it. 

'Am I allowed to take photos?' Diego asked, picking up his phone, stepped out of the kitchen. 

Klaus followed, cushion tucked under his arm. 

Although Five looked like he couldn't think of anything worse, Delores' eyes had lit up and she nodded. Playfully winking at Five, Diego rounded the couch to crouch down. He might not know his Instagrams from his Tumblrs, but he _had_ grown up in the era of MySpace and the burgeoning days of Facebook, and he knew a photo opportunity when he saw one. 

'I'll send you the photos, Five. You can both show your parents.' 

As Diego positioned himself on the armchair opposite them, Klaus went about adjusting the lighting. Sheer curtains were drawn over the windows to soften the lighting, while the lamps were dimmed just a breath. From where he sat, he could catch the edge of the sunflowers that sat in front of them, the yellow petals fanned out at the bottom of the image to frame it. A small part of him wanted to even suggest to Five that they upload it to their social media, though he had a feeling any such request would wind up him losing his phone out the apartment window. 

Delores offered her left wrist to Five, who was turning as red as a rose hip. He fumbled with the ribbons as he delicately turned her hand over. The flowers sat flush against her pale arm, the hue matching the iridescent shimmer of her dress. 

Somehow, Diego had expected her to fumble with the boutonniere. As she picked it up, the mechanical fingers on her arm clicking a little as she unlatched the pin, Diego was rendered quiet as she slipped it into the fabric of Five's jacket. He shouldn't have doubted her. 

'Oh, that's sweet,' Klaus cooed as Diego checked through the camera roll. 'Now one of you two kissing.' 

'No!' Five yelped, looking like he was about ready to have the ground open up and swallow him whole. 

Before Diego had a chance to join Five in scolding Klaus, Delores quickly leant over and gave Five a gentle kiss on the cheek. As he squawked, she gave another muffled giggled and stood up. Pulling the shawl back up where it had fallen off, she waited patiently for Five, who was still bright red. She was beginning to burn up, too, and even went so far as to let her hair fall over her face. Five stumbled a little as he stood, looking like he was deeply considering the possibilities of taking her hand, before the potential embarrassment of doing so won out and he instead handed her her purse. 

'I want you home before midnight,' Klaus said, pointing at the pair of them. 

'They're _fourteen_ ,' Diego replied. 

Klaus paused. 'Two am, then.' 

'Wrong direction, honey.' 

'Oh, _God_ , can we please go?' Five groaned, as he tried to hide his face as Delores took hold of his wrist and guided him to the door. 

'Make good choices!' Klaus sang out as the door closed behind them. Then, with a hand thrown over his heart, he continued wistfully, 'our little boy is all grown up.' 

Diego finally let go of the laugh he had been holding in for the entire visit. Falling into the armchair, a loud,belly-shaking laugh spilled from him. It was wonderful and sweet and he was positively gleeful that not only was Delores real, but that Five was utterly besotted with her. But young love in that awkward phase of teenage life was always amusing to him. Head back and arms wrapped around his middle, he felt hot tears spring into his eyes. 

'What's so funny?' Klaus asked, humour tinting his own voice as he approached. 

'Just... _them_ ,' Diego said, wiping his eyes. 'It's sweet.' 

'It's sweet?' Klaus repeated, standing by the armchair. 'They're sweet? _Honey_?' 

The use of the pet name Diego had let slip had him pausing between snickers. Darting his eyes away, up at the ceiling, he shrugged a shoulder and hummed a little. Then, nodding, he decided to meet Klaus' gaze. One of the sunflowers had been removed from the vase and Klaus twirled it around, the yellow petals kissing his cheek as he admired Diego from where he stood. 

'Yeah, it is. You have a problem with it?' 

His answer came as Klaus draping himself over his lap, his legs kicked over the edge of the armrest. He was heavy and not exactly a delicate person, and Diego found himself needing to hold Klaus up. Pressing a small kiss to the very tip of Klaus' nose, Diego hauled him in a little closer and let his chin rest upon his shoulder. Now that they had the apartment to themselves again, he could show Klaus just how sweet he found it all. 


	28. purslane

Although it was a little cramped and the smell of fertiliser and florals occasionally seeped through the floorboards and wafted upstairs, Klaus loved to spend the night at Diego's. He'd curl up around him in the small bed, holding onto him as he slept. A toothbrush was kept on the bathroom sink, an extra shirt was hung in the closet, a set of china kept out for him on the tiny kitchen table. Diego welcomed him, even if there were times when he was cramped in the bed and had to perform an elaborate contemporary dance routine to clamber over him to use the john in the middle of the night. 

Easter was celebrated at his mother's house. Klaus came over again, squealing when he was handed a basket of chocolate eggs. Over the course of the afternoon, he and Grace painted eggs, while Diego wove flowers through the baskets that would later be handed out at the daycare. Klaus took one with him when they left, not for himself, but for Five. 

'I'm not sure how Passover is celebrated,' he explained on the drive home as he examined the basket. 'But he has a weak spot for marshmallow Peeps.' 

'I think most kids his age do, honey.' 

It was always sweet to see Klaus' reaction to the pet name. He'd clap a hand over his mouth as he grinned and turned to look out the window as they drove. His other hand would sit on Diego's thigh, their fingers entwined. Sometimes Diego could still scarcely believe the direction his life had turned and the bewildering man that had crashed into it. Having Grace's approval was all the sweeter. 

As the days and weeks passed, a newfound sense of life began to emerge in Klaus' spacious apartment. The sunflowers that Diego brought him each week (as the crates never stopped arriving) began to fill the rooms with a sweet scent. Photos began to return to the bookshelves, though only some of them contained Dave, with his soft smile and kind eyes. Some were photographs of exotic locales, others held portraits of Klaus' friends. Diego even spotted two photos of him up there, one where Klaus had snapped a photo of him while he was still dozing in the morning, another where he was quietly at work with an arrangement. Even a photo of Five and Delores had a spot on the shelves. 

While Klaus seemed to relish the cosiness of Diego's home, Diego was astounded by the view from Klaus'. The sunsets were magnificent, the sunrises as breathtaking as he'd imagined they would be. At night, the city would light up and the buildings would twinkle like the stars above. Diego would push the curtains and blinds aside so he could see the view. He'd never been one to see the value in a view like that before, but the artistic world Klaus moved in had brought something out. He could suddenly understand the appeal of it. 

The sounds were different, though, being so high up. He was used to the sounds of cars and pedestrians walking him up, the laughter of his neighbours. There were no dogs barking, not even Five's dog, Pogo, upstairs. Sometimes, if he strained his hearing, he could hear a few bars of music, but it would be quickly silenced. Even if they slept with a window open, which they occasionally did as April slid into May, there would only be an echo of noise from below, a mere suggestion that people existed outside of their world. 

It was a surprise, then, when Diego woke up to rain. It splattered on the window, hitting the curtains and blinds from where they had been pushed aside so the view could be seen. Pushing up off the bed, Diego blinked at the view. The city view had been rendered a glistening mess, the yellow lights streaked with rain. It was not unlike the abstract impressionist paintings Klaus did. 

Beside him, there was a sniff, a soft snore. Klaus rolled onto his back, his dog tags nestled between his collar bones. The room was dim, but a bolt of lightning from the spring storm temporarily lit the room up. The rain fell harder. 

He was beautiful. _God_ , he was beautiful. 

Leaning down, Diego kissed his jaw, where his goatee met day-old stubble. There was a twitch and then he stilled. Down to his neck, the front of his throat, kissing around the dog tags. His collar bones, each one. His fingers danced over his bicep, where the tattoo stood out. Diego knew the meaning of each tattoo now, as well as the scars of track marks. He had told Klaus about his own scars, his own tattoos, his history, his heritage, good and bad. 

Klaus stirred. He murmured softly, confused and addled by sleep. He twisted underneath Diego, moaning a little as his hips were squeezed. Taking his time, Diego kissed his way down Klaus' sternum, between his ribs, and towards his navel. Lifting his hips, Klaus gave a sleepy, thoughtful moan, his cock already twitching against the front of Diego's throat. 

'Dee?' he murmured, groping about to find the back of his head. 

Reaching his navel, Diego lifted his gaze. The room filled up with a bolt of lightning. Thunder chased after it, a few seconds later. Klaus' heavy-lidded gaze was upon him, his hand drifting down the side of his cheek. Bowing his head, Diego licked at his navel, feeling the muscles in his belly twitch at the attention. The tattoos that ran down his belly in a script Diego couldn't read but Klaus had explained to him danced under his ministrations. There was a twitch, a flicker, as his muscles tried to escape the attention of Diego's tongue, the light scrape of his beard. 

Further down. The blankets were kicked off, the humidity in the room rising as the rain poured. The jut of Klaus' hips twisted under his hands as he gripped him. The thatch of hair tickled his lips, his nose, the smell of musk and arousal growing as he finally reached his cock. He was growing harder, particularly when Diego kissed the base. 

'S'nice way to wake up,' Klaus whispered, his voice thin and high as Diego took hold of him and kissed his way down. 'Can you- more, please?' 

Wrapping his fingers around the belly of his cock, Diego licked the head. Salty and strong, already beading at the tip. Klaus gave a loud whimper, his hips rolling up. One hand gripped the dog tags while the other reached down, fumbling for Diego's free hand, which he squeezed. There was a secondary roll of his hips, and Diego parted his lips, allowing the head of his cock slip inside his mouth. He sucked upon it, drinking in the sound of the deep moan that came from Klaus, just as another crack of thunder sounded overhead. 

'Oh, God, _Dee_ ,' Klaus moaned, his knees drawing up. 'Diego, _please_.' 

He was always so desperate. So gorgeously loud and noisy, as he drew in a breath and rolled his hips upwards. Gripping the base of his cock, the inches that Diego couldn't fit nor swallow down, he moaned in return. The added addition of his nickname and the thick, begging tone, only made it all the sweeter. 

A knee drew up. Diego felt the brush of a calf along his side, the bony protrusion of Klaus' delicate ankle. Loosening his grip on Klaus' hand, he reached down and grabbed his foot. The hand he'd been holding shot into his hair, urging him to move his head faster. As he batted his eyes open, catching a glimpse of Klaus' ecstasy in a flash of thunder, he pressed his thumb to the ball of the flexed, straining foot. Holding it tight, he encouraged Klaus to toss his leg over his shoulder. Diego let go of his cock and grabbed at the ankle, hitching the knee up higher. 

The other joined it of its own accord. Lifting his head to take a breath, Diego ground into the mattress. Klaus was writhing beneath him, whimpering as he squirmed. Turning his head, Diego pressed his mouth to the side of his thigh, feeling the soft skin. There was a shiver as he grazed his teeth, a gasp as he sucked down. Klaus bruised easily, his thighs and hips and chest littered with bruises given to him in private moments, as he begged as loudly as he did now. 

'Diego,' Klaus moaned again, jerking his hair to force him to look up. ' _Please_ , Diego.' 

Licking the underside of his cock, Diego parted his lips. He took him in again, slower this time, inch by inch. With one last squeeze to his foot, he wrapped his hand back around the root of his cock. His fingers were with with saliva, coated with it as he sucked greedily. Klaus let the dog tags fall back against his chest and groped around. He found Diego's hand and held onto it as he squirmed underneath him. 

There was a pattern to Klaus' orgasms, a rhythm that Diego had begun to figure out. A twitch would start in his thighs and belly. His right leg would shiver and tense up, his hips rocking a one-two beat. His breath would come quicker, his moans higher. His head would get thrown back, just as it did now, as the precome flowed freely. Diego swallowed down what he could, watching as Klaus arched his back until the top of his head was pressed against the pillow. His fingers tightened around Diego's hand, nails biting the back of it as he came. 

'Oh- _oh_ , Diego, _ohh_ \- ' he gasped, his heels pushing into his shoulder blades. 'I love you. Oh, _God_ , I love you.' 

The last utterance had Diego almost choking. He swallowed as best he could, though he could still feel a layer of come on his tongue. Lifting his head, stroking the twitching, softening length, he cleared his throat and tried to swallow again. Klaus hadn't said that yet. To be fair, Diego hadn't, either. 

Maybe it was because Diego had woken him up in the middle of the night by giving him head. Or maybe he was still partly asleep. 

That didn't seem right, though. Klaus wasn't like that. Despite his big heart, his deep soul, he never said things glibly. 

As he settled back into the mattress, Klaus grabbed at him, heaving him up. Diego's erection, previously ignored, ran over his inner thigh, the V of his pelvis, against to the crook of his hip. He tried to turn his head, well aware he needed a glass of water, but Klaus kissed him anyway. His hands dove into Diego's hair, holding him in place so he could kiss him, his legs wrapping around his midsection. Rocking into his hip, Diego groaned, feeling the sticky-slick drag of his foreskin rolling back as he rutted against him. 

The hands tugged at his hair. They pulled the back of his head, eliciting a thick moan from Diego as he squirmed. The precome dripped onto Klaus' pale skin, his cock coating in it as he rocked forward. Klaus sucked at his tongue, in spite of (or perhaps because of) the lingering trace of come there. Grabbing at the pillow, Diego shuddered all over, his knees pressing into the mattress as his hips staggered forward. 

He came hard. Spilling over, thick drops of white coating Klaus' hip, Diego moaned and collapsed on top of him. The hands came to rest on the back of his neck, the legs dropping back down and landing on the bed. The lightning had ceased at some point, the thunder rolling rolling off. Panting hard, Diego nuzzled the crook of Klaus' shoulder as he stretched out, evenly distributing his weight. 

After a beat, he tilted his head up. 

'I love you, too.' 

He whispered it, just under Klaus' ear. His lips brushed over the tender skin at the top of his neck, over the stubble. It was the softest admission, a suggestion of words. 

Klaus still heard them. He stilled, just a fraction, and laughed awkwardly. The fingers that sat at the base of Diego's neck began to tape away, a little nervously. 

'You heard that, huh?' 

With a small nod, Diego ran his thumb over Klaus' shoulder. There was a nervous twitter from Klaus, a tiny laugh as he tried to swallow his sudden shyness. It wasn't like him to grow this quiet or thoughtful. Diego didn't want to draw attention to the admission, one that must have been building within him for so long, that would have taken so long for him to work up to doing. 

'It wasn't the first time,' Klaus finally said, keeping his voice barely above a hush. 

It was a little difficult to hear over the rain, still splattering on the window. Diego wasn't about to ask him to speak up, though. 

'No?' he asked. 

Klaus shook his head. Diego could feel it, the small knock against his forehead, the rub of stubble on his brow. He moved a little, shifting up. As he did, Klaus reached about and grabbed the duvet to pull over them. The rain had brought with it a small chill, and without the heat of sex to warm them up, Diego could feel goosebumps crawling over both their bodies. 

Once settled, Diego stretched out beside Klaus. His arm lay over his middle, trying to keep the blanket off the come drying on his belly. Klaus didn't seem to pay it any mind, still too wrapped up in his own thoughts. 

'I've said it before,' he finally said. 

'What? When?' Baffled, Diego couldn't recall such a time. Surely he'd remember it, something as big as that. 

'When you're asleep,' Klaus said with a shy laugh. 'When you're in the shower. Or working. Mostly when you're asleep.' 

A nervous flutter went through Diego as he tried to digest that news. Klaus had said it before, in secret, uttering it God knew how many times. Diego tried to swallow but he couldn't. His tongue threatened to grow thick and immobile in his mouth and he bit at it, curling it about so it didn't have a chance to render him a stuttering mess. 

Throwing both his hands over his face, Klaus groaned with embarrassment. His heart swelling, Diego picked up one of his hands by the wrist and pushed it down. His hand wrapped over the tattooed _HELLO_ and tugged it back under the blanket so Klaus couldn't try hiding his face. 

With a final twist of his tongue, Diego finally freed his tongue from where it had become stuck to the roof of his mouth. He squeezed Klaus' wrist, his smile wide and bright upon his face. Despite his shyness, Klaus was still smiling back at him. 

'You're going to have to tell me how many times,' Diego whispered. 

'Why?' 

'So I can tell you the same number of times.' 

It was sappy. It was sweet and saccharine and sickeningly syrupy. But it had the intended reaction. Klaus groaned, a little high pitched, and rolled over onto his side, his face burrowing into the pillow to try to avoid looking at Diego. Delighting in the response, Diego kissed his temple. 

'I love you,' he said. Then down, at his shoulder. 'I love you. I love you.' 

He'd been wanting to utter it for weeks. Months, maybe. But he hadn't wanted to force it, not in case Klaus still wasn't ready to hear it, to accept it. But with the doors thrown open for him, Diego ached to return the gesture in time, to utter it over and over. He wanted to make up for lost time, to let Klaus know just how deeply and honestly he meant it. How badly Klaus _deserved_ to hear it. 

His bicep, his collar bone, the side of his nose, anywhere that he could reach as Klaus squawked and fought against him. Over and over, until he reached his mouth and he could cup his face. Lifting his chin just enough so he could hold his cheeks, Diego kissed him, so gently until the heat left Klaus' face and he responded in kind. 

The rain stopped eventually. It petered out to a mere drizzle. Finding what was possibly his shirt from the previous day, Diego mopped up the slightly dried remains of his orgasm from Klaus' stomach and tossed it aside. The clouds had parted, the storm had moved on, and the sun had begun to peek over the horizon. 

Klaus yawned. 

It still wasn't clear what time it was, but the broken sleep had begun to catch up to Diego, too. Falling back against the bed, he nudged Klaus back onto his opposite side. Spooning up behind him, his legs tucked behind him, Diego wrapped an arm tight around him. He was sure it was the weekend. He could afford to sleep in, just a little bit. 

His lips kissed over the back of Klaus' neck, just under his hairline. The ball chain sat over his neck, twisted about. Running his thumb under it, he smoothed it out and let the dog tags, chip and ring rest on the bed in front of Klaus. His heart was still skipping a beat, his mind whirling with the admission. 

His eyes shutting, Diego let his breathing even out. Sleep chased at his coattails, nipping at his heels. 

'Diego?' Klaus asked, his voice thick with sleep once more. 

'Hm?' 

'You need to get up soon.' 

'Mm-mm,' Diego mumbled, folding his hand over Klaus'. 'It's the weekend.' 

'It's Monday.' 

It couldn't be. Not possibly. 

It was. 

The alarm began to buzz. The sound of it hit Diego between the temples. But as the bells from his phone began to sound, over and over, inevitable and persistent, he groaned and shoved himself back up. Swearing, he collapsed against Klaus and huffed. Despite his deep-bodied exhaustion, it had all been worth it. 

Kneeling on all fours, he blinked blearily down at Klaus. He was smiling up at him, his skin a little pink from all the attention. Stretching his back out, Diego gave his hand a squeeze. Even though he had to leave earlier than he would have liked to make sure he opened the store on time, he never regretted spending the night. He couldn't possibly have any regrets now, not when Klaus lifted his head and uttered again that he loved Diego, before diving back under the covers and hauling the blankets over his head. Diego would never get sick of hearing that. 


	29. [packing slip vi]

Invoice Number: 4253GA-3 

Date: June 23rd 2020 

*

_Graceful Arrangements_

c/o 

Diego Hargreeves 

*

Thank you for your purchase! 

Please check that all items listed below have been received and agree with your order. Please report any discrepancies noted immediately to our customer service centre. 

There are no exchanges for insect damage, nor any exchanges for frost between December 1st and March 1st. 

_We will no longer be accepting returns for uninvoiced items._

*

**ITEMS SHIPPED**

[XXX] 

_Helianthus annuus_

[XXX] 

**REFUND**

[XXX] 

Refund enclosed – apologies for the inconvenience. 

[XXX] 

*

Thank you for your purchase! 


	30. xeranthemum

Time began to spread out. Summer started to seep in, as the sun rose earlier and heat began to slip under his shirt sleeves. 

His small apartment became too hot for both he and Klaus to share each night, and he spent more time at Klaus'. He didn't mind the longer trek to work, particularly if it meant he could have Klaus stretched out before him on all fours, as the lights of the city skyline danced upon his naked skin. 

The city council approved the mural. Scaffolding was established outside the building, and Klaus went to work on it. The wall was given a whitewash, the Maurice Sendak-styled creatures (only with far bigger eyes and thicker outlines) began to be sketched along the brickwork. During quiet periods, Diego would stand at the mouth of the alley, just to watch him work. Sure, he liked seeing Klaus peel his shirt and necklaces off as he got hot and offer him lemonade, but he also liked seeing his artistic talents at play. There was something fascinating about it, and Diego slowly began to understand why Klaus had been driven to inspiration over witnessing him do the same. 

As the store began to grow busier, Diego finally caved and hired a new staff member. Vanya only wanted part time hours, to fit around her string quartet schedule, and that suited Diego just fine. Her taste in music was about as frustrating as Eudora's had been, with some kind of violin dubstep that appealed to Klaus. But she was patient with customers and appealed to the elderly clients in the same way Five did. 

School broke for the summer and Five began working longer hours at the store. The social media account now had a Snapchat associated with it, with most videos seeming to comprise of Diego trying to get out of view of the camera. Five was also recording a time lapse of the mural outside with Vanya providing backing music. It seemed as though the wall had become a popular spot for teenagers to have their photo taken. Maybe it wasn't the demographic Diego had been hoping for, but he would accept it. 

The sunflowers stopped arriving. 

It took Diego two weeks to accept it. His orders came in correct, with the appropriate number of crates. He checked each packing slip three times, counted the boxes, crossed off the flowers. He cautiously placed a single order for sunflowers, and only one come. 

At the bottom of the packaging slip was a refund for the so-called inconvenience. Diego checked the amount. He had been keeping record of the estimated cost of all the sunflowers that had arrived, as well as the amount he had sold. The refund was only half of his estimate, but he would take it. With a heavy sigh of relief, he collapsed against his small desk in the office and allowed the tension to melt away. 

* 

Eudora's graduation ceremony from the police academy was at the start of July. The warmer weather brought with it clear skies, a rejuvenation springing through Diego. There was a joy, an exuberance that was new and strange pulsing through him. He had thought he would be more wistful and forlorn when Eudora's studies came to an end and she was accepted into the police force, but he wasn't. He was proud of her and for the achievements she had made. While there was still a definite pang of regret for not having had the chance, Diego didn't find himself lingering on it. His life had grown and blossomed in a way he'd never quite predicted. 

It took a little coaxing for Grace to attend the ceremony. Her life had become far more regimented than Diego's had previously been, and she huffed about not having anything to wear, about how it might be peculiar for her to attend, that she had so much else on. Diego countered every point, until he thrust her bag and hat in her hands and almost dragged her out the door. It was easier to convince Five to come along. Diego had thought it might be a little weird, inviting his current boyfriend to his ex-girlfriend's graduation ceremony, but Klaus actually asked to come. Now, though, he began to grow a little twitchy the closer they got to the academy grounds. 

Grace sat in the front seat beside Diego, Klaus behind her and Five next to him. Diego watched through the rear view mirror, the way Klaus kept adjusting his sunglasses. He was wearing his quote/unquote, 'nicest shirt' again, the one with the frills and embellished buttons. The sight of it had created a slightly Pavlovian response in Diego, and he kept tapping the steering wheel to distract himself as Klaus tugged at the sleeves and collar. 

'Don't they all look smart?' Grace cooed as they parked, eyeing the graduates. 

Behind him, Five muttered something to Klaus that had the latter let out a loud laughing, his sunglasses falling down his nose and into his lap. Both Grace and Diego whipped around, twin frowns on their face. 

'What's so funny?' Diego asked, eyeballing the pair of them. 

'Do you two need to be separated?' Grace added, in the same tone of voice she'd use on the children in her daycare. 

'No, Mom!' Klaus sang as he slipped out of the car. 

Five scurried after him, still snickering as he threw himself from the car. Slapping a hand over his face, Diego made a mental note to never let Klaus and Five ride together in the back on long car rides. 

As he exited the car, Klaus came bounding up to him. He took hold of Diego's hand, gripping it tightly as Grace coaxed Five over and went about neatening up his hair. 

'Do I dare ask what was so funny?' Diego asked quietly, slowing down so Grace and Five had time to catch up. 

'Oh, just an observation from Five,' Klaus said, taking a moment to take in the suspicious glare that was thrown his way by Diego. 'Just that no one's ever released a song called fuck the firefighters. Hey, I think that's the cop who arrested me once. Hi!' 

Before Klaus had a chance to wave, Diego grabbed his wrist and forced it down. A coquettish purr came from Klaus as his wrists were squeezed, his eyelashes batting flirtatiously. With a small hiss, Diego let go and shook his head. 

'If you two don't start behaving, we are _not_ going out for lunch after.' 

'But you _promised_!' Five protested. 

'You're too young to be drinking coffee,' Grace added. Then, pushing a hand between his shoulder blades, she nudged him forward. 

Diego felt like they were being stared at as they entered the open grounds. A row of bleachers had been set up, only partly undercover. The day wasn't hot enough for it to be a problem, though Diego wished he had thought ahead and brought a hat. Grace's wide-brimmed white hat fell delicately over her hair as she took Diego's hand to help her up the stands. Klaus followed him, mock-scolding Five behind him about being on his best behaviour. 

'I _will_ separate you two,' Diego said, looking over his shoulder as Klaus sat down in the middle of the block. 

'Do you think they serve Coke here?' Klaus asked. 

' _Klaus_!' Diego hissed. 

'Cola, _schnucki_. Don't get so wound up.' 

'Five, put your phone away!' Grace said, leaning over both Diego and Klaus to push Five's phone into his lap. 

'My name isn't Five, you don't have to- ' 

'Oh, it _is_ the officer who arrested me. I think he's glaring at me.' 

'I am going to die here,' Diego groaned, covering his hands with his face and sinking into the hard, metal seat. 

He didn't. It was a miracle that he didn't. Diego was absolutely certain some higher deity was going to take pity on him and let the ground swallow him up. The whisper-bickering match ended when the ceremony started. Five miraculously put his phone away, Klaus stopped trying to make eyes with his arresting officer, and Grace's nerves subsided. Diego held both Klaus and Grace's hands, squeezing both as he watched Eudora. Diego had expected some kind of residual regret or longing to raise its ugly head, but surprisingly, blessedly, none come. Only pride. 

Once Eudora's family had dispersed after the ceremony, Diego rushed to give her a big hug. Klaus drawled about a woman in uniform (and received a firm, albeit playful, punch in the bicep from Eudora, which was followed by a muffled squawk about 'police brutality!'), and Five had his hair dutifully ruffled. Grace gave her the scarf that Diego had promised months ago, blue and white with a thread of red running through it. The scarf wasn't uniform regulation, but she put it on long enough for photos. 

Diego congratulated her. He squeezed her hands, gave her a quick hug and adjusted the hat that sat atop her head. His smile was honest, even if he did nervously rub the scar that ran across his brow and felt his tongue grow thick in his mouth. 

He was happy for her. 

He was happier for himself. 

* 

Eudora stopped by the store two weeks after her graduation. Diego was a little disappointed she wasn't wearing her uniform, but he supposed it would frighten potential customers (plus Klaus, who had had to deal with his arresting officer after the ceremony). Five fluttered around, eager to show her the small bouquets he had been making, plus the popular Instagram account. He gushed about it to her, pointing the arrangements he had helped with. 

It was sweet to watch. Five had begun to emerge from his hardened shell since he had taken Delores to the dance. Proving that she was real and having Klaus and Diego's approval had helped. 

In the stockroom, the latest shipment of flowers had arrived. Vanya emerged from the back room and stumbled a little, nearly knocking Eudora over as she went to pass the packing slip to Diego. She gave a small noise of surprise and weakly apologised as she tried to neaten out her collar and the apron. 

Diego gave the packing slip a cursory glance. Roses, orchids, chrysanthemums, carnations. Ribbons and vases and a small batch of foil balloons. 

'Hi! I'm Eudora. You're Vanya, right?' 

Vanya didn't reply. Diego looked up from the packing slip, his eyebrows shooting to his hairline. Vanya looked like she might have simultaneously swallowed her tongue and forgotten how to breathe. 

'I... uh, I play the violin.' 

'Yeah, Klaus said you were in a quartet.' 

Rendered mute, Vanya just nodded. She made a sound that may have been an attempt to speak, before turning and scurrying into the back room again. Coughing to hide his humour, Diego slid off the stool he'd been sitting on. He folded the packing slip and slid it into the front of his apron. 

'Patches.' 

'Sunny Dee?' Eudora chirped, looking far too innocent. 

'Let's check on Klaus. Five, can you give Vanya a hand and make sure she isn't trying to suffocate herself in the roses?' 

A cool breeze was blowing when they stepped out of the store. As the stepped into the alley, Klaus shouted his hellos and climbed down from the scaffolding. Half the mural was done. The wall was an inoffensive soft blue, which almost blended into the sky on a clear day. There was a splash of yellow, highlighting the cartoon creatures, the bold, black outlines standing out. At the very top was a scripted outline of the store's name– _Graceful Arrangements._ It had yet to be filled in, and Klaus was still trying to twist Diego's arm into letting him do it in lavender. Diego just wanted flowers. 

'This is gorgeous, Klaus,' Eudora remarked. 

Unable to help himself, Diego beamed. Finding Klaus' hand, he squeezed it. It was covered in dried paint, but his own hand was filthy with dirt. 

'Mister Diego!' 

The sound of his nickname had Diego squeezing his eyes shut. It was never a good sign when Five used that tone of voice. 

The boy came running around the corner at the end of the alley. 

'Is someone dead?' 

Five furrowed his brow. He considered the question and shook his head. 

'Is someone hurt?' 

Again, he shook his head. 'No?' 

'Then what is it?' 

'You should just come.' 

Huffing, Diego started down the alley. Klaus followed along, still holding his hand, while Eudora took up the rear. 

At the back of the building, the delivery truck was pulling off. Diego still mentally scowled whenever he saw their logo. Shaking his head, he turned to the stock room, where the roller door was lifted. There were more crates than he had expected, some with their lids already pried off. 

The box closest to him contained roses. Another held carnations. A third orchids. All standard. And then there was a crate of violets. And another. And one more. 

Vanya reached into a fourth crate and pulled out a fistful of violets. She looked up at Diego weakly, shaking her head. Astounded, confused and already feeling his head begin to pound, Diego pulled the packing slip out of his pocket and unfolded. There wasn't anything about violets on it. 

Breathing in deeply through his nose, Diego gave Klaus' hand a squeeze. Five had somehow found Diego's switchblade and was toying with it. Eudora was poking through one of the crates of violets with Vanya, both looking as baffled as the other. 

'So,' Diego said, trying to keep his voice even. 'Who wants to go on a road trip?' 

There was a squeeze of his hand and a kiss to his brow. Five tossed him the switchblade, which Diego pocketed, and went about placing the lids back on the crates. Klaus wrapped an arm around his waist and tugged him in close. Diego returned the gesture and smiled over at him, sweetly and fondly. A road trip would be fun. 


End file.
